III
A conflict, this, refracted, cloud to cloud!
Where a white summit? Under crimson seas,
And these still hightening. Through far azure, Peace
Listens and, eager, peeps; then, turns headbowed.
The conflict circling earth, all plains are ploughed
New rows of gulches. God! can aught appease
The Dragon with fiend thirst's eternities
For tongue! The sun might, if it were well sloughed.
The Dragon, mounting, draws aloft earth's slime
With which to dim the all-producing Sun
From broadening light and warmth for every one;
But, look! The Eagle, with the thirst sublime
Of Justice, that the right on earth be done—
Flashes and—hark! 'Tis earth's Te-Deum chime!