Far in the distance, lofty mountains loomed, Their blue sides trembling in the sultry haze. From me to them spread varicultured fields, That formed a patchwork landscape, which deserved The pencil of a Rembrandt and his skill; The hardy yellow stubble smoothly shaved, With boldness lying ’neath the scorching sun; The suffering corn, with tasselled heads all bowed, And twisted arms appealing, raised to Heaven; The meadows faded by the constant blaze; The cattle lying in the hedge’s shade; Across the landscape drawn a glitt’ring band, Where winds the river, like a giant snake, The ripples flashing like his polished scales. Above the scene a lonely vulture wheeled, Turning with every curve from side to side, As if the fierce rays broiled his dusky wings; And circling onwards, dwindled to a speck, And in the distance vanished out of sight! Complete repose was stamped on everything, Save where a tireless ant tugged at a crumb, To drag it o’er th’ impeding spires of moss; And one poor robin, with her breast all pale And feather-scarce, hopped wearily along The streamlet’s edge, with plaintive clock-like chirp, And searching, found and bore the curling worm, Up to the yellow-throated brood o’erhead. Behind the mountains reared the copper clouds Of summer skies, that whitened as they rose, Till bleached to snow, they drifted dreamily, Like gleaming icebergs, through the blue sublime. And as they, one by one, sailed far away, Methought they were as ships from Earth to Heaven, Thus slowly floating to the Eternal Port. The Thunder’s muttered growl my reverie broke, And looking toward the West, I saw a storm, With gloomy wrath, had thrown its dark-blue line Of breastworks, quiv’ring with each grand discharge Of its own ordnance, o’er th’ horizon’s verge. Some time it stood to gloat upon its prey, Then, girding up its strength, began its march. Extending far its black gigantic arms, It grimly clambered up the tranquil sky; Till, half-way up the arch, its shaggy brows Scowled down in rage upon the frightened earth; While through its wind-cleft portals sped the darts, That brightly hurtled through the sultry air. And down the mountain-sides the shadow crept, A dark veil spreading over field and wood, Thus adding gloom to Nature’s awful hush. The fleecy racks had fled far to the East, Where sporting safely in the gilding light, They mocked the angry monster’s cumbrous speed.