Onward dance their charging hosts.
Lightly to the ruling music
Youthful limbs are rising, falling,
Swaying, bending, like the flower-stalks,
To the music of the breeze.
Now they meet, now gleam the weapons,
Lightly swung, and lightly parried;
Are they swords, or are they sunbeams—
Sunbeams glittering in their hands?
Tones of viol, bolder, fuller!—