The gathering clouds like meeting armies

Come on apace.

Lee's Mithridates.

Look, from the turbid south
What floods of flame in red diffusion burst,
Frequent and furious, darted thro' the dark
And broken ridges of a thousand clouds,
Pil'd hill on hill; and hark, the thunder rous'd,
Groans in long roarings thro' the distant gloom.

Mallet's Mustapha.

The night grows wond'rous dark: deep-swelling gusts And sultry stillness take the rule by turn,

Whilst o'er our heads the black and heavy clouds

Roll slowly on.

This surely bodes a storm.

Joanna Baillie's Rayner, a. 1, s. 1.

Ev'n o'er my head

The soft and misty-textur'd clouds seem chang'd
To piles of harden'd rocks, which from their base,
Like the up-breaking of a ruin'd world,
Are hurl'd with force tremendous.

Ibid. a. 2, s. 2.

Monk. How hast thou fared in this most awful time?

Prior. As one whom fear did not make pitiless:

I bow'd me at the cross for those whose heads

Are naked to the visiting blasts of Heav'n

In this its hour of wrath.

For the lone traveller on the hill of storms,
For the tossed shipman on the perilous deep;
Till the last peal that thundered o'er mine head
Did force a cry of mercy for myself.

Maturin's Bertram, a. 1, s. 1.

The strife of fiends is on the battling clouds,

The glare of hell is in these sulphurous light'nings;

This is no earthly storm.

Ibid.

Peace, peace-thou rash and unadvised man;
Oh! add not to this night of nature's horrors
The darker shadowing of thy wicked fears.
The hand of Heaven, not man, is dealing with us,
And thoughts like thine do make it deal thus sternly.
Maturin's Bertram, a. 1, s. 1.

Storms when I was young

Would still pass o'er like Nature's fitful fevers,

And render'd all more wholesome. Now their rage, Sent thus unseasonable and profitless,

Speaks like the threats of Heaven

Ibid. a. 1, s. 4.

Of winds and waves, the strangely mingled sounds
Ride heavily the night-wind's hollow sweep,
Mocking the sounds of human lamentation.

Ibid. a. 5. s. 1. The sky

Is overcast, and musters muttering thunder,
In clouds that seem approaching fast, and show
In forked flashes a commanding tempest.

Byron's Sardanapalus, a. 2, s. 1.

I heard the wrack

As earth and sky would mingle; but myself

Was distant; and these flaws, though mortals fear them

As dang'rous to the pillar'd frame of heaven,
Or to the earth's dark basis underneath,
Are to the main as inconsiderable,

And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze
To man's less universe, and soon are gone.

Milton's Paradise Regained, b. 4.

'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all : When to the startled eye the sudden glance Appears far south, eruptive thro' the cloud;

And following slower, in explosion vast,
The thunder raises his tremendous voice.

Thomson's Seasons-Summer:

From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage;

Till, in the furious elemental war

Dissolv'd, the whole precipitated mass
Unbroken floods and solid torrents pour.

A boding silence reigns,

Ibid.

Dread thro' the dun expanse; save the dull sound
That from the mountain, previous to the storm,
Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood,
And shakes the forest leaf without a breath.
Prone, to the lowest vale, aerial tribes
Descend the tempest-loving raven scarce
Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze
The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens
Cast a deploring eye; by man forsook,
Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast,
Ör seeks the shelter of the downward cave.

Ibid.

Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply-troubled thought;
And yet not always on the guilty head
Descends the fated flash.

Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst,
And hurls the whole precipitated air,
Down, in a torrent. On the passive main
Descends the ethereal force, and with strong gust
Turns from its bottom the discolour'd deep.
Thro' the black night that sits immense around,
Lash'd into foam, the fierce contending brine
Seems o'er a thousand raging waves to burn.

Ibid.

Ibid-Winter.

Along the woods, along the moorish fens,
Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm;
And up among the loose disjointed cliffs,"

And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook
And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan,
Resounding long in listening fancy's ear.

Thomson's Seasons-Winter.

Thro' all the burden'd air,

Long groans are heard, shrill sounds, and distant sighs,
That, utter'd by the demon of the night,
Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death.

Ibid.

In vain for him the officious wife prepares
The fire fair blazing, and the vestment warm ;
In vain his little children, peeping out
Into the mingling storm, demand their s
With tears of artless innocence. Alas!
Nor wife, nor children, more shall he be
Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve
The deadly Winter seizes; shuts up sense;
And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold,
Lays him along the snows, a stiffened corse,
Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast.

Oh! when the growling winds contend, and all
The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm;
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din
Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights
Above the luxury of vulgar sleep.

Ibid.

Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, b. 1.

THOUGHT.

Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint,

'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer ;

Guard well thy thoughts; our thoughts are heard in
Heaven. Young's Night Thoughts, n. 2.

A soul without reflection, like a pile
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

Ibid. n. 5.

THREATENING.

Old as I am, and quench'd with scars and sorrows,
Yet could I make this wither'd arm do wonders,
And open in an enemy such wounds,

Mercy would weep to look on.

Rochester's Valentinian.

Oh! wert thou young again, I would put off
My majesty to be more terrible;

That like an angel I might strike this hare,
Trembling on earth!

Shake thee to dust, and tear Thy heart for this bold lie, thou feeble dotard !

Lee's Alexander.

Speak then, or I will tear thee limb from limb:
Thou shalt be safe, if thou confess the truth ;
But if thou hide ought from me, I will rack thee,
'Till with thy horrid groans, thou wake the dead:
Or I will cut thee to anatomy,

And search thro' all thy veins to find it out.

Lee's Casar Borgia.

Do me justice,

Or, by the gods, I'll lay a scene of blood,

Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature.

Otway's Orphan.

Stand there, damn'd meddling villain, and be silent; For if thou utt'rest but a single word,

A cough or hem, to cross me in my speech,

I'll send thy cursed spirit from the earth,

To bellow with the damn'd!

Joanna Baillie's Basil, a. 2, s. 2.

Back to thy punishment,

False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings,

Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue

Thy ling'ring.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 2.

P