CHARCOAL-BURNER and his WIFE. CHARCOAL-BURNER. This is a fearful storm, the heavens seem As if they would vent themselves in streams of fire; So thick the darkness which usurps the day, That one might see the stars. The angry winds Bluster and howl like spirits loosed from hell. The firm earth trembles, and the aged elms Groaning, bow down their venerable tops. Yet this terrific tumult, o'er our heads, Which teacheth gentleness to savage beasts, So that they seek the shelter of their caves, Appeaseth not the bloody strife of men— Amidst the raging of the wind and storm At intervals is heard the cannon's roar; So near the hostile armaments approach, The wood alone doth part them; any hour May see them mingle in the shock of battle. WIFE. May God protect us then! Our enemies, Not long ago, were vanquished and dispersed. How comes it that they trouble us again? CHARCOAL-BURNER. Because they now no longer fear the king, Since that the maid turned out to be a witch At Rheims, the devil aideth us no longer, And things have gone against us. WIFE. Who comes here? |