Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/44

32 He cries and is gone; but they know the worst— The breast of the Williamsburg dam has burst! The basin that nourished their happy homes Is changed to a demon—It comes! it comes!

A monster in aspect, with shaggy front Of shattered dwellings, to take the brunt Of the homes they shatter—white-maned and hoarse. The merciless Terror fills the course Of the narrow valley, and rushing raves, With Death on the first of its hissing waves. Till cottage and street and crowded mill Are crumbled and crushed.

But onward still. In front of the roaring flood is heard The galloping horse and the warning word. Thank God! the brave man's life is spared! From Williamsburg town he nobly dared To race with the flood and take the road In front of the terrible swath it mowed.