Across the great concave of heaven,
In chariots wrought of solid gold;
Choice diamonds, rubies, gems untold,
Should be inlaid about its sides;
And flying horses (o’er their hides
’Boss’d bullion-trappings, chaste and neat)
Should from their heads down to their feet
Be clad with * * * *;
That gods may envy those proud beings
Who drove from man those evil things—