But now the moon had hid her light
Behind a heavy cloud,
Which o'er the azure face of heaven
Had darkened like a shroud.
The wind was howling, as it howls
O'er some sea-beaten strand:
So utter was the darkness round,
You could not see your hand.
The rain upon the casement beat,
And yet she flung it wide;
And with dry brushwood, and with furze,
The blazing hearth supplied.
She knew their cottage was for miles
Seen shining thro’ the night—
"God grant," she said with faltering voice,
"My mother sees the light."
She could not bear her agony,
For she could hear afar
The tumult of the rising flood,
With the wild wind at war.
With desperate steps she hurried forth;
The lantern’s feeble ray,
And the strong purpose of her heart
Sufficed her dangerous way.
How past with her that anxious night
To God is only known,
For reason in that fearful search
Was utterly o’erthrown.
At morning light the ebbing flood
Had yielded up its prey,
And there, by some strange impulse led,
Rebecca bent her way.
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