As in a moment's time a cloud obscure

  Steams from the bottom of some marshy dale,

  Which the sun's visage, late so bright and pure,

  Mantles all over with its dingy veil;

  So that poor damsel, sentenced to endure,

  Without, the pelting shower and blustering gale,

  Is seen to change her cheer, and is no more

  The fair and mirthful maid she was before.