No wonder that our heartstrings glowed within us like a smelted lode
Whence Kobolds welded Durandal; and like one man we ran or rode
Forth. Were we not enchanted? This was first among God's certainties.
Even our steeds were like Shabdíz, the pride of King Khusraw Parvíz.
We saw our path made plain, the hills removed by faith, whose foaming course
Flooded the continents like flats. We saw the world made one—by force.
In ecstasy our spirits soared. With beatific face toward
My cloudland all the crowd shed tears, and vowed to serve and save the Lord.
But cloudland, seeming to disdain such warmth, replied with slapping rain.
Conjuring such black augury the monks recited formulæ.