Page:Adelaide.pdf/80



CURTIUS.

is a multitude, in number like The waves of the wide ocean; and as still As are those waters, when the summer breeze Sleeps on the moveless billow; there is awe On every countenance; and each does stand In gasping breathlessness, as terror chain'd The life pulse down; or, as they deem'd, a sound Might call down new destruction on their heads— The sun look'd smiling from his clear blue throne, And nature seem'd to gladden in the ray; When suddenly a cloud came over heaven,