(No flower, but a boat)--some more were hauling The _Regent_ by the head:--another crew With that same cry peculiar to their _calling_-- Were heaving up the _Hope_:--and as they knew The very gods themselves oft get a mauling In their own realms, the seamen wisely drew The _Neptune_ rather higher on the beach, That he might lie beyond his billows' reach. And now the storm, with its despotic power, Had all usurped the azure of the skies, Making our daylight darker by an hour, And some few drops--of an unusual size-- Few and distinct--scarce twenty to the shower, Fell like huge teardrops from a giant's eyes-- But then this sprinkle thickened in a trice And rained much _harder_--in good solid ice. Oh for a very storm of words to show How this fierce crash of hail came rushing o'er us! Handel would make the gusty organs blow Grandly, and a rich storm in music score us:-- But ev'n his music seemed composed and low, When we were _handled_ by this Hailstone Chorus; Whilst thunder rumbled, with its awful sound, And frozen comfits rolled along the ground-- As big as bullets:--Lord! how they did batter Our crazy tiles:--and now the lightning flashed Alternate with the dark, until the latter Was rarest of the two!--the gust too dashed So terribly, I thought the hail must shatter Some panes,--and so it did--and first it smashed The very square where I had chose my station To watch the general illumination. Another, and another, still came in, And fell in jingling ruin at my feet, Making transparent holes that let me win Some samples of the storm:--Oh! it was sweet To think I had a shelter for my skin, Culling them through these "loopholes of retreat"-- Which in a little we began to glaze-- Chiefly with a jacktowel and some baize! But which, the cloud had passed o'erhead, but played Its crooked fires in constant flashes still, Just in our rear, as though it had arrayed Its heavy batteries at Fairlight Mill, So that it lit the town, and grandly made The rugged features of the Castle Hill Leap, like a birth, from chaos into light, And then relapse into the gloomy night-- As parcel of the cloud;--the clouds themselves, Like monstrous crags and summits everlasting, Piled each on each in most gigantic shelves, That Milton's devils were engaged in blasting. We could e'en fancy Satan and his elves Busy upon those crags, and ever casting Huge fragments loose,--and that we _felt_ the sound They made in falling to the startled ground. And so the tempest scowled away,--and soon Timidly shining through its skirts of jet, We saw the rim of the pacific moon, Like a bright fish entangled in a net, Flashing its silver sides,--how sweet a boon Seemed her sweet light, as though it would beget, With that fair smile, a calm upon the seas-- Peace in the sky--and coolness in the breeze!