82
THE TEMPEST.
The charmed brow of Solitude, her spouse.
************************A sign was on creation. You beheld
All things encolour'd in a sulph'rous hue,
As day were sick with fear. The haggard clouds
O'erhung the utter lifelessness of air;
The top boughs of the forest all aghast
Stared in the face of Heav'n; the deep-mouth'd wind,
That hath a voice to bay the armed sea,
Fled with a low cry like a beaten hound;
And only that askance the shadows, flew
Some open-beaked birds in wilderment,
Naught stirr'd abroad. All dumb did Nature seem,
In expectation of the coming storm.
It came in power. You soon might hear afar
The footsteps of the martial thunder sound
