[...]distressed, Had warded off exhaustion's rest, And in that maze of pine and fir Escaped an icy sepulchre. When driving sws accumulate, They yield to the tremendous weight. And down the mountain's rugged sides The mass with great momentum slides, Cleaving the fragile spruce and pine, Which stand in its ill-fated line, As bearded grain, mature and lithe, Goes down before the reaper's scythe. Or, when the cyclone's baleful force, In flood of atmospheric wrath, [...].