The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm.
The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel.

None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice.
Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation.

Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury.

The actual danger was lost sight of in these wild apprehensions; and many timorous beings were scared beyond reason's verge by the excess of their fears.
This had well nigh been the case with the carpenter.

He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!--the bridge!".