But suddenly the mystic spell That bound him to the Past was rent; The vivid lightning, forked and red, Flashed through the broken casement, blent With the loud thunder's awful roar, Prolonged and echoing o'er and o'er. The warring of the world without Offended not the struggling heart; Roused from the apathy of thought He sought the casement with a start, And watched the raging storm sweep by With kindling cheek and flashing eye. XVI. On! on! it came with fiery breath, Instinct with rage and winged with death, As downward swept, ere Time begun His swift and varied race to run, Through realms chaotic and sublime, With wing of light and forehead pale, Immortal in remorse and crime, Thrilling the Infinite with wail, The apostate troops from lands of light To darkness, shame and withering blight. On! on! it came, and in its path The tall trees bent beneath its wrath, And fell with hollow, crashing sound, Torn and uprooted, to the ground. Still nearer grew the lightning flash, And heavier broke the thunder crash; And as, with almost blinded gaze, Watched Lennard the electric blaze, He saw through rain and densest night A thin, pale line of waving light Speed to a lofty oak, whose head Sunk powerless to its parent bed. XVII. The hours passed on--the storm had spent The fury to its madness lent, And wild and sullen clouds on high In broken masses swept the sky, As Lennard left the ruined hall, And, bounding o'er the garden wall, Walked swiftly o'er the lonely plain, Till 'neath the blasted pine again He paused, and blew the whistle low; Soon from a clump of firs below An aged servant slowly led A saddled steed: the pale moon shed Its fitful gleam as Lennard sprung Light to his seat, then fearless flung The bridle loose, and spurring, soon Drew up beside a deep lagoon, Whose stagnant waters 'neath the moon Glimmered through bush and hanging vine, And cypress bald and ragged pine. Concealed within the spectral gloom, Of wide morass and forest tomb, His comrades there he found; By many a devious winding led, Where the pale fire-flies' torches shed A fitful gleam around, He paused at length where Huon stood, Amid his faithful band, though rude, And thus his errand told: "Where bends the Santee in the plain Has Tarleton's troop encamped again, With careless movement bold; One half his men will march to-night To join the troop on Charleston height, The guard will be both dull and light; A few short hours, with speed and care, Must lead us to the station there." XVIII.