Again appears with flesh indued.
Promethean will uncrushed and calm,
His blighted sinews nerved and strung,
All foes he met without alarm—
At fiend or god his gauntlet flung.
His spirit was a dark abyss,
Its surface glassed with summer smiled;
But deep below the dragon hissed,
And thoughts like hydras lurked and coiled.
The bright-haired shadows drenched in blood,