



Francis P. Owings. 



In weird dun light, gleamed the glowering signs, 

 On the horizon's edge in shadowy lines, 

 And the swaying tops of quivering pines, 



Precede the rising gale : 

 Instinctive dread of the coming foe, 

 Scared mountain birds come flying low ; 

 Wild beasts shelter with the timid doe, 



On the mountain trail. 



The crashing shocks — shook the riven rocks, 

 Uprooted pines delved in deep lochs, 

 Waters rushed and gushed o'er granite blocks 



In chaotic melee. 

 Up through gloomy gorge and ravine haunt, 

 O'er crag and spur and boulders gaunt, 

 Thunders echoed in noisy taunt, 



A hoarse melody. 



By fitful winds, storm swept and tossed, 

 Loosened rubbish its pathway crossed, 

 Subdued as strength was shorn and lost 



'Gainst some granite cliff ; 

 Then shrieking past o'er the darkening crest, 

 Wrenching mighty trees with wrathful zest, 

 The sheeted rain poured from the west, 



Where black clouds drift. 



Then with angry dash and lurid flash, 



The canyons echo the distant crash 



Of splintered crags as they ringing clash, 



And burst asunder ; 

 And the shrieking voice of a shivered oak, 

 Falling crushed 'neath the lightning's stroke, 

 Mingled loud — as the tempest broke, 



With pealing thunder. 



Up echoing flume — the thundering boom 

 Of Heaven's artillery pierced the gloom, 

 And swollen brooks splash and foam 



Down the wild cascade. 

 With howl and moan and crashing roar, 

 Through gulch and glen the thunder bore, 

 And trembling ash and sycamore 



Tossed and swaved. 



On rugged crests — the lightning iagged, 

 Like fiery tongues from Hades dragged. 

 Next instant sped as forks zigzagged 



From crest to gorge. 

 Death lay concealed with talons wreathed. 

 Sublime — in the dread vengeance breathed, 

 As Azrael's flaming sword unsheathed, 



From a demon's forge. 



' 



Low in gloomy lair — crouched the grizzly bear, 

 Wolves shrink in awe from dazzling glare 

 Of lightning bolt and thunder's blare, 



Of the tempest's wrath. 

 Deluge of sheeted rain — midst destruction grim, 

 Debris of splintered trees— and dismembered limb, 

 And waste of waters o'er canyon's brim, 



Was the aftermath. 



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