All hopes of safety and of love are gone: As when some dreadful thunder-clap is nigh, The winged fire shoots swiftly through the sky, Strikes and consumes, ere scarce it does appear, And by the sudden ill prevents the fear: Such is my state in this amazing woe, It leaves no power to think, much less to do.

Daylight had given place to twilight; and Dante was advancing his head a little, and endeavouring to discern objects in the distance, when his whole attention was called to one particular spot, by a blast of a horn so loud, that a thunder clap was a whisper in comparison.