Yet Mordaunt, unappall'd, was rather pleased to have an opportunity of observing the effects of a thunder-storm in a region so elevated; but in a moment, a vivid flash of lightning, followed instantly by a tremendous burst of thunder, was succeeded by a piercing scream; and two girls, descending the mountain, ran by him with the utmost swiftness. The rain, which now fell in torrents, had already wetted their slight garments, and as the descent was now become extremely slippery, one of them had nearly fallen to the ground, at the instant she had passed him. Humanity prompted Mordaunt to follow, entreat them not to be alarmed, and to allow him to assist them: his appearance, so totally unexpected (for the shadow of the ruin under which he stood, and the deep gloom of the atmosphere, had prevented their seeing him), seemed to startle them almost as much as the storm, which one of the half-breathless girls said had surprized them still higher on the mountain than he had been. The thunder, however, now became more distant; and a light breeze, springing up from the land, carried the clouds towards the sea: still, however, the descent continued dangerous, from being so slippery; and Mordaunt solicited the young women to accept of his aid. He readily conjectured them to be Joanna Ross and Ellen Powis; and the moment the soft voice of the latter fell upon his ear, he recognized the speaker he had heard the night before saying, "Good night, dear Joanna." Her voice, indeed, was so singularly sweet, that once heard it could never be forgotten; and Mordaunt, turning as she spoke, beheld a face and figure, which, once seen, must equally be for ever remembered-- And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A nymph, a Naïad, or a Grace, Of finer form or lovelier face. What though the sun, with ardent frown, Had slightly ting'd her cheek with brown; What though no rule of courtly grace To measur'd mood had train'd her pace. A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flow'r dash'd the dew: E'en the slight hare-bell rais'd its head Elastic from her airy tread. What though upon her speech there hung Some accents of the mountain tongue; Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The list'ner held his breath to hear. SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE