And goodly sons again about him swarm;
And peace, ’tis but a hollow truce I know,
Now reigns between him and his ancient foe.
He hates me still, and fain would do me harm,
But neither man nor demon dares offend,
Who hath the cruel Thunder-Bird for friend.
PART II.
Nature hath her élite in every land,
Sealed by her signet, felt although unseen.