XXIV.Wind and Cloud

FROM THE LATIN OF VIRGIL.

Why should I mark each storm and starry sign,When milder suns in autumn swift decline?Or what new cares await the vernal hour,When spring descends in many a driving shower,While bristle into ear the bearded plains,And the green stalk distends its milky grains?E’en in mid autumn, while the jocund hindBade the gay field the gather’d harvest bind,Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,And prone on earth th’ infuriate storm descend—Waste, far and wide, and by the roots uptorn,The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne!While in dark eddies, as the whirlwind past,The straw and stubble flew before the blast.Column on column prest in close array,Dark tempests thicken o’er the watery way.Heaven poured in torrents, rushes on the plain,And with wide deluge sweeps the floating grain;The dikes o’erflow, the flooded channels roar,Vexed ocean’s foaming billows rock the shore:The Thunderer, thron’d in clouds, with darkness crown’d,Bares his red arm, and flashes lightnings round.The beasts are fled; earth rocks from pole to pole—Fear walks the world, and bows th’ astonished soul;Jove rides with fiery bolt Ceraunia’s brow,Or Athos blazing 'mid eternal snow.The tempest darkens, blasts redoubled rave,Smite the hoarse wood, and lash the howling wave.Translation ofW. Sotheby.

Why should I mark each storm and starry sign,

When milder suns in autumn swift decline?

Or what new cares await the vernal hour,

When spring descends in many a driving shower,

While bristle into ear the bearded plains,

And the green stalk distends its milky grains?

E’en in mid autumn, while the jocund hind

Bade the gay field the gather’d harvest bind,

Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,

And prone on earth th’ infuriate storm descend—

Waste, far and wide, and by the roots uptorn,

The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne!

While in dark eddies, as the whirlwind past,

The straw and stubble flew before the blast.

Column on column prest in close array,

Dark tempests thicken o’er the watery way.

Heaven poured in torrents, rushes on the plain,

And with wide deluge sweeps the floating grain;

The dikes o’erflow, the flooded channels roar,

Vexed ocean’s foaming billows rock the shore:

The Thunderer, thron’d in clouds, with darkness crown’d,

Bares his red arm, and flashes lightnings round.

The beasts are fled; earth rocks from pole to pole—

Fear walks the world, and bows th’ astonished soul;

Jove rides with fiery bolt Ceraunia’s brow,

Or Athos blazing 'mid eternal snow.

The tempest darkens, blasts redoubled rave,

Smite the hoarse wood, and lash the howling wave.

Translation ofW. Sotheby.

Loveliest of the meteor train,Girdle of the summer rain—Finger of the dews of air,Glowing vision, fleet as fair;While the evening shower retires,Kindle thy unhurting fires,And among the meadows near,Thy refulgent pillar rear;Or amid the dark-blue cloud,High thine orbed glories shroud;Or the moisten’d hills between,Bent in mighty arch be seen;Through whose sparkling portals wide,Fiends of storm and darkness ride.Like Cheerfulness, thou art wont to gazeAlways on the brightest blaze;Canst from setting suns deduceVaried gleams and sprightly hues;And on low’ring gloom imprintSmiling streaks of gayest tint.R. Southey, 1774–1850.

Loveliest of the meteor train,

Girdle of the summer rain—

Finger of the dews of air,

Glowing vision, fleet as fair;

While the evening shower retires,

Kindle thy unhurting fires,

And among the meadows near,

Thy refulgent pillar rear;

Or amid the dark-blue cloud,

High thine orbed glories shroud;

Or the moisten’d hills between,

Bent in mighty arch be seen;

Through whose sparkling portals wide,

Fiends of storm and darkness ride.

Like Cheerfulness, thou art wont to gazeAlways on the brightest blaze;Canst from setting suns deduceVaried gleams and sprightly hues;And on low’ring gloom imprintSmiling streaks of gayest tint.R. Southey, 1774–1850.

Like Cheerfulness, thou art wont to gaze

Always on the brightest blaze;

Canst from setting suns deduce

Varied gleams and sprightly hues;

And on low’ring gloom imprint

Smiling streaks of gayest tint.

R. Southey, 1774–1850.

THE WINDY NIGHT.

Alow and aloof,Over the roof,How the midnight tempests howl!With a dreary voice, like the dismal tuneOf wolves that bay at the desert moon;Or whistle and shriekThrough limbs that creek,“Tu-who! Tu-whit!”They cry and flit,“Tu-whit! Tu-who!” like the solemn owl!Alow and aloof,Over the roof,Sweep the moaning winds amain,And wildly dashThe elm and ash,Clattering on the window sash,With a clatter and patter,Like hail and rain,That well might shatterThe dusky pane!Alow and aloof,Over the roof,How the tempests swell and roar!Though no foot is astir,Though the cat and the curLie dozing along the kitchen floor;There are feet of airOn every stair!Through every hall—Through each gusty door,There’s a jostle and bustle,With a silken rustle,Like the meeting of guests at a festival!Alow and aloof,Over the roof,How the stormy tempests swell!And make the vaneOn the spire complain—They heave at the steeple with might and main,And burst and sweepInto the belfry, on the bell!They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well,That the sexton tosses his arms in sleep,And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell!T. B. Read.

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,

How the midnight tempests howl!

With a dreary voice, like the dismal tune

Of wolves that bay at the desert moon;

Or whistle and shriek

Through limbs that creek,

“Tu-who! Tu-whit!”

They cry and flit,

“Tu-whit! Tu-who!” like the solemn owl!

Alow and aloof,Over the roof,Sweep the moaning winds amain,And wildly dashThe elm and ash,Clattering on the window sash,With a clatter and patter,Like hail and rain,That well might shatterThe dusky pane!

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,

Sweep the moaning winds amain,

And wildly dash

The elm and ash,

Clattering on the window sash,

With a clatter and patter,

Like hail and rain,

That well might shatter

The dusky pane!

Alow and aloof,Over the roof,How the tempests swell and roar!Though no foot is astir,Though the cat and the curLie dozing along the kitchen floor;There are feet of airOn every stair!Through every hall—Through each gusty door,There’s a jostle and bustle,With a silken rustle,Like the meeting of guests at a festival!

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,

How the tempests swell and roar!

Though no foot is astir,

Though the cat and the cur

Lie dozing along the kitchen floor;

There are feet of air

On every stair!

Through every hall—

Through each gusty door,

There’s a jostle and bustle,

With a silken rustle,

Like the meeting of guests at a festival!

Alow and aloof,Over the roof,How the stormy tempests swell!And make the vaneOn the spire complain—They heave at the steeple with might and main,And burst and sweepInto the belfry, on the bell!They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well,That the sexton tosses his arms in sleep,And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell!T. B. Read.

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,

How the stormy tempests swell!

And make the vane

On the spire complain—

They heave at the steeple with might and main,

And burst and sweep

Into the belfry, on the bell!

They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well,

That the sexton tosses his arms in sleep,

And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell!

T. B. Read.

FROM COWPER’S LETTERS.

It has pleased God to give us rain, without which this part of our country, at least, must soon have become a desert. The meadows have been parched to a January brown, and we have foddered our cattle for some time, as in winter. The goodness and power of God are never, I believe, so universally acknowledged as at the end of a long drought. Man is naturally a self-sufficient animal, and in all concerns that seem to lie within the sphere of his own ability thinks little or not at all of the need he always has of protection and furtherance from above. But he is sensible that the clouds will not assemble at his bidding; and that, though the clouds assemble, they will not fall in showers because he commands them. When, therefore, at last the blessing descends, you shall hear even in the streets the most irreligious and thoughtless with one voice exclaim, “Thank God!” confessing themselves indebted to his favor, and willing, at least so far as words go, to give Him the glory. I can hardly doubt, therefore, that the earth is sometimes parched, and the crops endangered, in order that the multitude may not want a memento to whom they owe them, nor absolutely forget the power on which all depend for all things.

Letter toS. Rose, Esq.,June 23, 1788.W. Cowper, 1731–1800.

* * * * *When o’er the green undeluged Earth,Heaven’s covenant thou didst shine,How came the World’s gray fathers forthTo watch thy sacred sign!And when its yellow luster smiledO’er mountains yet untrod,Each mother held aloft her child,To bless the bow of God.Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,The first-made anthem rang,On earth deliver’d from the deep,And the first poet sang.Nor ever shall the Muse’s eyeUnraptur’d greet thy beam;Theme of primeval prophecy,Be still the poet’s theme!The earth to thee her incense yields,The lark thy welcome sings,When glittering in the freshen’d fields,The snowy mushroom springs.How glorious is thy girdle castO’er mountain, tower, and town,Or mirror’d in the Ocean vast,A thousand fathoms down!As fresh in yon horizon dark,As young thy beauties seem,As when the eagle from the arkFirst sported in thy beam.For faithful to its sacred page,Heaven still rebuilds thy span,Nor lets the type grow pale with age,That first spoke peace to man.Th. Campbell, 1777–1844.

* * * * *

When o’er the green undeluged Earth,Heaven’s covenant thou didst shine,How came the World’s gray fathers forthTo watch thy sacred sign!

When o’er the green undeluged Earth,

Heaven’s covenant thou didst shine,

How came the World’s gray fathers forth

To watch thy sacred sign!

And when its yellow luster smiledO’er mountains yet untrod,Each mother held aloft her child,To bless the bow of God.

And when its yellow luster smiled

O’er mountains yet untrod,

Each mother held aloft her child,

To bless the bow of God.

Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,The first-made anthem rang,On earth deliver’d from the deep,And the first poet sang.

Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,

The first-made anthem rang,

On earth deliver’d from the deep,

And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse’s eyeUnraptur’d greet thy beam;Theme of primeval prophecy,Be still the poet’s theme!

Nor ever shall the Muse’s eye

Unraptur’d greet thy beam;

Theme of primeval prophecy,

Be still the poet’s theme!

The earth to thee her incense yields,The lark thy welcome sings,When glittering in the freshen’d fields,The snowy mushroom springs.

The earth to thee her incense yields,

The lark thy welcome sings,

When glittering in the freshen’d fields,

The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle castO’er mountain, tower, and town,Or mirror’d in the Ocean vast,A thousand fathoms down!

How glorious is thy girdle cast

O’er mountain, tower, and town,

Or mirror’d in the Ocean vast,

A thousand fathoms down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,As young thy beauties seem,As when the eagle from the arkFirst sported in thy beam.

As fresh in yon horizon dark,

As young thy beauties seem,

As when the eagle from the ark

First sported in thy beam.

For faithful to its sacred page,Heaven still rebuilds thy span,Nor lets the type grow pale with age,That first spoke peace to man.Th. Campbell, 1777–1844.

For faithful to its sacred page,

Heaven still rebuilds thy span,

Nor lets the type grow pale with age,

That first spoke peace to man.

Th. Campbell, 1777–1844.

I had left the village of Shawaney, situated on the banks of the Ohio, on my return to Henderson, which is also situated on the banks of the same beautiful stream. The weather was pleasant, and I thought not warmer than usual at that season. My horse was jogging quietly along, and my thoughts were for once, at least, in the course of my life, entirely engaged in commercial speculations. I had forded Highland Creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of bottom-land, or valley that lay between it and Canoe Creek, when on a sudden I remarked a great difference in the aspect of the heavens. A hazy thickness had overspread the country, and I for some time expected an earthquake, but my horse exhibited no propensity to stop and prepare for such an occurrence. I had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, when I thought fit to stop near a brook, and dismounted to quench the thirst which had come upon me.

I was leaning on my knees, with my lips about to touch the water,when, from my proximity to the earth, I heard a distant murmuring sound of an extraordinary nature; I drank, however, and as I rose on my feet, looked toward the southwest, where I observed a yellowish, oval spot, the appearance of which was quite new to me. Little time was left me for consideration, as the next moment a smart breeze began to agitate the taller trees. It increased to an unexpected height, and already the smaller branches and twigs were seen falling in a slanting direction toward the ground. Two minutes had scarcely elapsed, when the whole forest before me was in fearful motion. Here and there, where one tree pressed against another, a creaking noise was produced, similar to that occasioned by the violent gusts which sometimes sweep over the country. Turning instinctively toward the direction from which the wind blew, I saw, to my great astonishment, that the noblest trees of the forest bent their lofty heads for a while, and, unable to stand against the blast, were falling into pieces. First, the branches were broken off with a crackling noise; then went the upper part of the massy trunks, and in many places whole trees of gigantic size were falling entire to the ground. So rapid was the progress of the storm, that before I could think of taking measures to insure my safety, the hurricane was passing opposite to the place where I stood. Never can I forget the scene which at that moment presented itself. The tops of the trees were seen moving in the strangest manner, in the central current of the tempest, which carried along with it a mingled mass of twigs and foliage, that completely obscured the view. Some of the largest trees were seen bending and writhing under the gale; others suddenly snapped across, and many, after a momentary resistance, fell uprooted to the earth. The mass of branches, twigs, foliage, and dust that moved through the air, was whirled onward like a cloud of feathers, and, on passing, disclosed a wide space filled with fallen trees, naked stumps, and heaps of shapeless ruins, which marked the path of the tempest. This space was about a fourth of a mile in breadth, and to my imagination resembled the dried-up bed of the Mississippi, with its thousands ofplantersandsawyersstrewed in the sand, and inclined in various degrees. The horrible noise resembled that of the great cataracts of Niagara; and as it howled along in the track of the desolating tempest, produced a feeling in my mind which it is impossible to describe.

The principal force of the hurricane was now over, although millions of twigs and small branches, that had been brought from a great distance, were seen following the blast, as if drawn onward by some mysterious power. They even floated in the air for some hours after, as if supported by the thick mass of dust that rose high above the ground. The sky had now a greenish, lurid hue, and an extremely disagreeable sulphureous odor was diffused in the atmosphere. I waited in amazement, having sustained no material injury, until nature at length resumed her wonted aspect. For some moments I felt undetermined whether I should return to Morgantown, or attempt to force my way through the wrecks of the tempest. My business, however, being of an urgent nature, I ventured into the path of the storm, and after encountering innumerable difficulties, succeeded in crossing it. I was obliged to lead my horse by the bridle to enable him to leap over the fallen trees, while I scrambled over or under them in the best way I could—at times so hemmed in by the broken tops and tangled branches, as almost to become desperate. On arriving at my house, I gave an account of what I had seen, when, to my surprise, I was told there had been very little wind in the neighborhood, although in the streets and gardens many branches and twigs had fallen in a manner which excited great surprise.

[Pastoral Scene]

* * * The valley is yet a desolate place, overgrown with briers and bushes, thickly entangled amid the tops and trunks of the fallen trees, and is the resort of ravenous animals, to which they betake themselves, when pursued by man, or after they have committed their depredations on the farms of the surrounding district. I have crossed the path of the storm at a distance of a hundred miles from the spot where I witnessed its fury, and again four hundred miles farther off, in the State of Ohio. Lastly, I observed traces of its ravages on the summits of the mountains connected with the Great Pine Forest of Pennsylvania, three hundred miles beyond the place last mentioned. In all these different parts it appeared to me not to have exceeded a quarter of a mile in breadth.

J. J. Audubon.

A rainbow and the sun breaking through cloud.Discourage not yourselves, although you seeThe weather black, and storms prolonged be.What though it fiercely rains and thunders loud,Behold there is a rainbow in the cloud,Wherein a trustful promise may be found,That quite your little worlds shall not be drown’d.The sunshine through the foggy mists appear,The low’ring sky begins again to clear;And though the tempest yet your eyes affright,Fair weather may befall you long ere night.Such comfort speaks our Emblem unto thoseWhom stormy persecution doth inclose;And comforts him, that for the present sad,With hopes that better seasons may be had.There is not trouble, sorrow, nor distress,But mitigation hath, or some release.Long use or time the storm away will turn,Else patience makes it better to be borne.Yea; sorrow’s low’ring days will come and go,As well as prosp’rous hours of sunshine do;And when ’tis past, the pain that went beforeWill make the following pleasure seem the more.For He hath promis’d, whom we may believe,His blessing unto those that mourn and grieve;And that though sorrow much dejects their head,In ev’ry need we shall be comforted.This promise I believe; in ev’ry griefPerform it, Lord, and help my unbelief.So others viewing how thou cheerest me,Shall in all sorrows put their trust in thee.George Wither, 1588–1667.

A rainbow and the sun breaking through cloud.

Discourage not yourselves, although you see

The weather black, and storms prolonged be.

What though it fiercely rains and thunders loud,

Behold there is a rainbow in the cloud,

Wherein a trustful promise may be found,

That quite your little worlds shall not be drown’d.

The sunshine through the foggy mists appear,

The low’ring sky begins again to clear;

And though the tempest yet your eyes affright,

Fair weather may befall you long ere night.

Such comfort speaks our Emblem unto those

Whom stormy persecution doth inclose;

And comforts him, that for the present sad,

With hopes that better seasons may be had.

There is not trouble, sorrow, nor distress,

But mitigation hath, or some release.

Long use or time the storm away will turn,

Else patience makes it better to be borne.

Yea; sorrow’s low’ring days will come and go,

As well as prosp’rous hours of sunshine do;

And when ’tis past, the pain that went before

Will make the following pleasure seem the more.

For He hath promis’d, whom we may believe,

His blessing unto those that mourn and grieve;

And that though sorrow much dejects their head,

In ev’ry need we shall be comforted.

This promise I believe; in ev’ry grief

Perform it, Lord, and help my unbelief.

So others viewing how thou cheerest me,

Shall in all sorrows put their trust in thee.

George Wither, 1588–1667.

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