Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/38

8 And angry clouds are pouring fast

The vengeance of the skies.

2. Our guides are gone, our hope is lost,

And lightnings, as they play,

But show where rocks our path have crost,

Or gild the torrent's spray.

3. Is yon a cot I saw, though low?

When lightning broke the gloom—

How welcome were its shade!—ah, no!

'Tis but a Turkish tomb.

4. Through sounds of foaming waterfalls,

I hear a voice exclaim—

My way-worn countryman, who calls

On distant England's name.

5. A shot is fired—by foe or friend?

Another—'tis to tell

The mountain-peasants to descend,

And lead us where they dwell.

6. Oh! who in such a night will dare

To tempt the wilderness? Notes