Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/63
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The Deluge.
The judgment was at hand. Before the sunGathered tempestuous clouds, which, blackening, spreadUntil their blended masses overwhelmedThe hemisphere of day: and, adding gloomTo night's dark empire, swift from zone to zoneSwept the vast shadow, swallowing up all lightAnd covering the encircling firmamentAs with a mighty pall! Low in the dustBowed the affrighted nations, worshipping.Anon the o'ercharged garners of the stormBurst with their growing burden; fierce and fastShot down the ponderous rain, a sheeted floodThat slanted not before the baffled winds,But, with an arrowy and unwavering rush,Dashed hissing earthward. Soon the rivers rose,And roaring fled their channels; and calm lakesAwoke exulting from their lethargy,And poured destruction on their peaceful shores.
The lightning flickered in the deluged air,And feebly through the shout of gathering wavesMuttered the stifled thunder. Day nor nightCeased the descending streams; and if the gloomA little brightened, when the lurid mornRose on the starless midnight, 'twas to showThe lifting up of waters. Bird and beastForsook the flooded plains, and wearilyThe shivering multitudes of human doomedToiled up before the insatiate element.
Oceans were blent, and the leviathanWas borne aloft on the ascending seasTo where the eagle nestled. Mountains nowWere the sole land-marks, and their sides were clothedWith clustering myriads, from the weltering wasteWhose surges clasped them, to their topmost peaks,Swathed in the stooping cloud. The hand of deathSmote millions as they climbed; yet denser grewThe crowded nations, as the encroaching wavesNarrowed their little world.
And in that hour Did no man aid his fellow. Love of lifeWas the sole instinct; and the strong-limbed son,With imprecations, smote the palsied sireThat clung to him for succour. Woman trod