The crowd, amazed, pursued no certain mark, But birds met birds, and jostled in the dark.[212] Few mind the public, in a panic fright, And fear increased the horror of the night. Night came, but unattended with repose; Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close; Alone, and black she came; no friendly stars arose. What should they do, beset with dangers round, No neighbouring dorp,[213] no lodging to be found, But bleaky plains, and bare, unhospitable ground? The latter brood, who just began to fly, Sick-feathered, and unpractised in the sky, For succour to their helpless mother call: She spread her wings; some few beneath them crawl; She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all. To augment their woes, the winds began to move, Debate in air for empty fields above, Till Boreas got the skies, and poured amain His rattling hailstones, mixed with snow and rain. The joyless morning late arose, and found } A dreadful desolation reign around, } Some buried in the snow, some frozen to the ground.} The rest were struggling still with death, and lay The Crows and Ravens rights an undefended prey: Excepting Martin's race; for they and he Had gained the shelter of a hollow tree; But, soon discovered by a sturdy clown, } He headed all the rabble of a town, } And finished them with bats, or polled them down.} Martin himself was caught alive, and tried } For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide} No Martin there in winter shall abide. } High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear, He breathed his last, exposed to open air; And there his corpse unblessed is hanging still, To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill.--[214] The patience of the Hind did almost fail, For well she marked the malice of the tale; Which ribbald art their church to Luther owes; } In malice it began, by malice grows; } He sowed the serpent's teeth, an iron harvest rose.} But most in Martin's character and fate, She saw her slandered sons, the Panther's hate, The people's rage, the persecuting state:[215] Then said, I take the advice in friendly part; You clear your conscience, or at least your heart. Perhaps you failed in your foreseeing skill, For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill: As for my sons, the family is blessed, Whose every child is equal to the rest; No church reformed can boast a blameless line, Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine; Or else an old fanatic author lies, Who summed their scandals up by centuries.[216] But through your parable I plainly see The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity; The sunshine, that offends the purblind sight, Had some their wishes, it would soon be night.[217] Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you;