At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires: 
  From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear;
  And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer: 
  And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet,
  And the broad stream of flags and pikes dashed down each roaring street: 
  And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din. 
  As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in: 
  And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went,
  And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires of Kent. 
  Southward from Surrey’s pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth;
  High on bleak Hampstead’s swarthy moor they started for the north. 
  And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still,
  All night from tower to tower they sprang;—­they sprang from hill
          to hill,
  Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o’er Darwin’s rocky dales,
  Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales,
  Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern’s lonely height. 
  Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin’s crest of light;
  Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely’s stately fane,
  And tower and hamlet rose in arms o’er all the boundless plain;
  Till Belvoir’s lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent,
  And Lincoln sped the message on o’er the wide vale of Trent;
  Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt’s embattled pile,
  And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlise.

* * * * *

THE TORNADO.

AN AFRICAN SKETCH,—­BY THOMAS PRINGLE.

  Dost thou love to list the rushing
    Of the tempest in its might? 
  Dost thou joy to see the gushing
    Of the torrent at its height? 
  Hasten forth ere yet the gloaming
    Waneth wildly into night,
  While the troubled sea is foaming
    With a strange phosphoric light.

  Lo, the sea-fowl, loudly screaming,
    Seeks the shelter of the land;
  And a signal light is gleaming
    Where yon vesel nears the strand: 
  Just at sun-set she was lying
    All-becalmed upon the main;
  Now, with sails in tatters flying,
    She to sea-ward beats—­in vain!

* * * * *

  Now the forest trees are shaking,
    Like bullrushes in the gale;
  And the folded flocks are quaking
    ’Neath the pelting of the hail. 
  From the jungle-cumbered river
    Comes a growl along the ground;
  And the cattle start and shiver,
    For they know full well the sound.

  ’Tis the lion, gaunt with hunger. 
    Glaring down the darkening glen;
  But a fiercer Power and stronger
    Drives him back into his den: 
  For the fiend TORNADO rideth
    Forth with FEAR, his maniac bride. 
  Who by shipwrecked shores abideth,
    With the she-wolf by her side.