The north wind was blowing a hurricane, driving through the sky big, black, heavy clouds from which the rain poured down on the earth with terrific violence.
The Drunkard by Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893)

A high sea was raging and dashing its huge, slow, foamy waves along the coast with the rumbling sound of thunder. [...]

An orphan, and possessed of an adequate income, he cut a dash, as the saying is. He had a good figure and a good carriage, a sufficient flow of words to pass for wit, a certain natural grace, an air of nobility and pride, a gallant moustache and an eloquent eye, attributes which women like. [...]