Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/413



on, ye stormy voices, loud and shrill Your wild tumultuous melody—strip The forest of its clothing—leave it bare, As a deserted and world-trampled foundling! Lash on, ye rains, and pour your tide of might Unceasingly and strong, and blench the Earth's Green mantle with your floods: Suddenly swell The brawling torrent in the sleep-locked night, That it may deluge the subjacent plain, And spread destruction where security Had fondly built its faith, and knelt before The altar of its refuge—Sweep ye down Palace and mansion, hall and lofty tower, And creeping shed, into one common grave!

Ye lightnings that are flashing fitfully— (Heaven's messengers) askant the lurid sky, Burst forth in one vast sheet of whelming fire— Pass through the furnace the base lords of earth, With subtile fury inextinguishable— That, purified, they may again appear