300
A storm of waves breaks foamy on the strand.
And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark,
Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War,
And War, his strained sinews knit anew,
Still violate th' unfinish'd works of Peace.
But yonder look! for more demands thy view!"
He said: and straightway from the opposite Isle
A Vapor sail'd, as when a cloud, exhaled
From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence,
Travels the sky for many a trackless league,
'Till o'er some Death-doom'd land, distant in vain,
It broods incumbent. Forthwith from the Plain,
Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose,
And steer'd its course which way the Vapor went.
The Maiden paus'd, musing what this might mean.
But long time pass'd not, ere that brighter Cloud
Returned more bright: along the Plain it swept;
And soon from forth its bursting sides emerg'd
A dazzling Form, broad-bosom'd, bold of eye,
And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound.
Not more majestic stood the healing God,
When from his brow the arrow sped that slew
Huge Python. Shriek'd Ambition's giant throng,
And with them hiss'd the Locust-fiends that crawl'd
