All glories of all storms of the air that fell

Prone, ineluctable,

With roar from heaven of revel, and with hue

As of a heaven turned hell.

For when the red blast of their breath had made

All heaven aflush with light more dire than shade,

He felt it in his blood and eyes and hair

Burn as if all the fires of the earth and air

Had laid strong hold upon his flesh, and stung

The soul behind it as with serpent's tongue,

Forked like the loveliest lightnings: nor could bear

But hardly, half distraught with strong delight,

The joy that like a garment wrapped him round

And lapped him over and under

With raiment of great light

And rapture of great sound

At every loud leap earthward of the thunder

From heaven's most furthest bound:

So seemed all heaven in hearing and in sight,

Alive and mad with glory and angry joy,

 Prev. P 15/107 next