Through his aerial vesture vision-proof,
No mortal eye could see or horn or hoof.
II.
With soundless tread he passed from street to street,
Through which as arteries the sea-winds blew;
And gorgeous shows the mighty rustic greet,
Where’er from right to left his glance he threw;
Poor seem his pastoral hills and forests all,
Matched with the Isthmus’ peerless capital.
III.