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All she could rescue of the innocent groupe That yesterday surrounded her­—Escap'd Almost by miracle! Fear, frantic Fear, Wing'd her weak feet: yet, half repentant now Her headlong haste, she wishes she had staid To die with those affrighted Fancy paints The lawless soldier's victims­—Hark! again The driving tempest bears the cry of Death, And, with deep sudden thunder, the dread sound Of cannon vibrates on the tremulous earth; While, bursting in the air, the murderous bomb Glares o'er her mansion. Where the splinters fall, Like scatter'd comets, its destructive path Is mark'd by wreaths of flame!­—Then, overwhelm'd Beneath accumulated horror, sinks The desolate mourner; yet, in Death itself,