Classic Poem

The ploughman snores in weary length—
The oxen shade their ponderous strength—
The air is thick, and hot, and still,
And echo creeps from hill to hill
Listless the scene, save where the hawk
In equipoise, keen scans the rock,
Intent for prey, or partridge springs,
Or trout, soft splashing, spreads its watery rings.
White clouds in distant silence rise,
And gradual reach a towering size,
Solid and deep—but soon the sky
With wider gloom arrests the eye—
The zenith low'rs, oppressed and hot
Hung heavy o'er the peasant's cot
In black suspense—now on the ear
Come distant rumblings; now more near,
More marked, more fearful; till the flash's glare
Dazzles the eye, and singes all the air—
A moment's pause—all safe—all sure—
But O! how breathlessly secure!
Heaven's concave groans,
And echo moans—
Another, brighter flash—
And then another peal,
That makes us feel
As if the vault were rent,
And heaven's artillery sent
Right over head, with deafening rattle,
Louder a thousand times than battle
In hot discharge; above, below,
One crackling, instant, overthrow
Hark! on the crops
Come ponderous drops;
And now the awful dash,
And soaking, steeping splash—
The torrent roars,
The eagle soars;
The timid sheep
To shelter creep;
And all around
Seems dead and drowned,
While fainter rolls the solemn sound,
And paler lightnings pierce the ground.
Lo! all is o'er—
Bright as before
Peeps the blue azure forth,
And from the south, even to the north
A flood of radiance pours,
And drives the distant showers
The welcome sun, with genial ray,
Dries the big rain-drop from the spray,
Sucks the clagged moisture from the bubbling earth,
And beams once more upon our buoyant mirth.

So comes misfortune, unforeseen,
To shade life's various, spangled scene,
Harrows our peace, and blasts the plans
Of such a chequered tale as man's;
Yet soon departs (small in extent
When measured by life's monument,)
And leaves the pleasure-favoured mind
To joys more tempered, more refined.