She rages up and down, and to and fro
In timid anger runs:
If the frontiers be menaced, it is known
All over, and at once.
She hears her breast of sorrows night and day
At labor; ’round her brood
The old oblivions, where she sits at bay;
She hears the battling blood.
Echoes assail her from far worlds that lie
Beyond the bourne of these—