  When once, at ev’ning’s mellow close, The round moon lit the sky, And all beneath in calm repose In slumber rapt did lie— Seated on high upon the steep, Amid the moonlight glow, I looked upon a valley deep, And on a river’s flow. Sudden, across the chasm wide The heavy thunder growled, While far below in sullen glide The noble river rolled. And now a thousand feet below, Betwixt me and the stream, The thunder-cloud, with lightning’s glow, Obscures the river’s gleam. Loud and more loud, and all about The echoing hills among, The spirits of the tempest shout Their diapason song. Full in the midst the cloud now parts, And wars on different sides, And through the gap the light moon darts, Where bright the river glides. ——Moodie. Tugela, 1868. |
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