Suddenly a duller shade fell over the air; and one of the two gigantic crests into which the summit had been divided, rocked and waved to and fro; and then, with a sound, the mightiness of which no language can describe, it fell from its burning base, and rushed, an avalanche of fire, down the sides of the mountain. At the same instant gushed forth a volume of blackest smoke, rolling on, over air, sea and earth. Another, and another, and another shower of ashes, far more profuse than before, scattered fresh desolation along the streets, and darkness once more wrapped them as a veil.
The whole elements of civilization were broken up. If in the darkness, wife was separated from husband, or parent from child, vain was the hope of reunion. Each hurried blindly and confusedly on. Nothing was left save the law of self-preservation.
This beautiful poem should be recited with a calm, even devout dignity; occasionally rising into energetic expression as the poet apostrophizes the Deity in behalf of the down-trodden:
Of all my Father's herds and flocks, I love the Ox--the large-eyed Ox! I think no Christian man would wrong The Ox--so patient, calm, and strong!
How huge his strength! and yet, with flowers A child can lead this Ox of ours; And yoke his ponderous neck, with cords Made only of the gentlest words.
By fruitful Nile the Ox was Lord; By Jordan's stream his blood was poured; In every age--with every clan-- He loves, he serves, he dies for MAN!
And, through the long, long years of God, Since labouring ADAM delved the sod, I hear no human voice that mocks The _hue_ which God hath given His Ox!
While burdening toils bow down his back, Who asks if he be _white_ or _black?_ And when his generous blood is shed, Who shall deny its common _red?_
"Ye shall not muzzle"--God hath sworn-- "The Ox, that treadeth out the corn!" I think no Christian law ordains That _Ox_ or _Man_ should toil in chains.
So, haply, for an Ox I pray. That kneels and toils for us this day; A huge, calm, patient, large-eyed Ox, Black-skinned, among our herds and flocks.
So long, O righteous Lord! so long Bowed down, and yet so brave and strong-- I think no Christian, just and true, Can spurn this poor Ox for his _hue!_