You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once
That make ungrateful man....
Rumble thy bellyful! Spit fire, spout rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters,
I tax you not, you elements, with unkindness;