And on its dark, quick eddying surface bore The gather'd spoils of earth along its shore, While trees that not an hour before had stood The lofty monarchs of the stately wood, Now whirling round and round with furious force, Dash 'gainst the rocks that breast the torrent's force, And shiver like a reed by urchin broke Through idle mischief, or with heedless stroke; A hundred cataracts, unknown before, Rush down the mountain's side with fearful roar, And as with foaming fury down they go, Loose the firm rocks and thunder them below; Blue lightnings from the dark cloud's bosom sprung, Like serpents, menacing with forked tongue, While many a sturdy oak that stiffly braved The threatening hurricane that round it raved, Shiver'd beneath its bright, resistless flash, Came tumbling down amain with fearful crash. Air, earth, and skies, seem'd now to try their power, And struggle for the mastery of the hour; Higher the waters rose, and blacker still, And threaten'd soon the narrow vale to fill. TO A LADY. BY CLEMENT C. MOORE.--1804. Thy dimpled girls and rosy boys Rekindle in thy heart the joys That bless'd thy tender years: Unheeded fleet the hours away; For, while thy cherubs round thee play, New life thy bosom cheers. Once more, thou tell'st me, I may taste, Ere envious time this frame shall waste, My infant pleasures flown. Ah! there's a ray of lustre mild, Illumes the bosom of a child, To age, alas! scarce known. Not for my infant pleasures past I mourn; those joys which flew so fast, They, too, had many a stain; But for the mind, so pure and light, Which made those joys so fair, so bright, I sigh, and sigh in vain. Well I remember you, bless'd hours! Your sunbeams bright, your transient showers! Thoughtless I saw you fly; For distant ills then caus'd no dread; Nor cared I for the moments fled, For memory call'd no sigh. Fond parents swayed my every thought; No blame I feared, no praise I sought, But what their love bestowed. Full soon I learn'd each meaning look, Nor e'er the angry glance mistook For that where rapture glowed. Whene'er night's shadows called to rest, I sought my father, to request His benediction mild. A mother's love more loud would speak; With kiss on kiss she'd print my cheek, And bless her darling child. Thy lightest mists and clouds, sweet sleep! Thy purest opiates thou dost keep, On infancy to shed. No guilt there checks thy soft embrace, And not e'en tears and sobs can chase Thee from an infant's bed. The trickling tears which flow'd at night, Oft hast thou stay'd, till morning light Dispell'd my little woes. So fly before the sunbeam's power The remnants of the evening shower Which wet the early rose.