A Thunder Storm, while Travelling

With what rude drapery Nature robes her form Here in her sports! how wild! how picturesque!— How beautiful!—The aspiring rugged cliffs Rear their brown heads, now bare, and now involved In clustering foliage. Verdant girdles bind The hillocks rock-emboss'd,—while here and there, The white cascade, half curtain'd, leaps to join The expecting streamlet.—Here the silent sage Might ruminate,—the anchorite obtain A favourite cell,—or the meek christian view Him smile, who ever in his works is found By those who search aright.— —O'er the expanse Of glittering waters glides the snowy sail;— The lilliputian boat by infants mann'd, Steers amid fairy islets, circles round The indented shore,—and in a tiny bay Makes its safe harbour.—Up in boldness springs A steep promontory,—the pure, waveless stream Circles its base, while its indignant brow Frowns through a helmet of deep forest green, Nodding in lofty plumes.—But as we gaze An unexpected gloom pervades the sky Of summer's beauty.—From the wat'ry glass Gleam strong reflections of the warrior clouds Rushing to battle. The black tempest lifts Its mighty banner.—Prompt with missile shafts, Red lightning threatens,—awful thunders roar, And in wild deluge falls the hasty rain.— Yet, in the kindlings of this fearful wrath Nature is graceful still. —She may not blot The impress of her Maker,—and the heart That loves him,—loves the tablet he hath traced Even on the hostile cloud.— —Fair, rural scene, Wilt thou not smile once more?—No, darker throngs Prolong the fierce encounter in the skies, And heaven's gate trembles.—But thou soon shalt drink The sun-beam,—and yon elemental war Leave not a trace of sorrow.—Is it thus With man's contentions?—Ask the carnaged field, The writhing form,—the widow's lonely heart.— —Methinks this summer scenery, in its garb Of brief adversity, admonishes The musing mind.—Meekly it shadows forth The landscape of our pilgrimage.—Rough blasts Scatter our foliage, crush our cherish'd flowers, And hollow thunders wake our bosom'd joys To sudden flight.—But then through parting clouds The sun of Mercy beams, leading the eye Upward, and by a Father's discipline Instructing the sad heart.