The hot insistent rain,
The thunder-shock; and of the Past mirage no more at all.
No more the alien dream
Pursuing, as we went,
With glory’s cursèd gleam:
Nor sins of Cæsar’s ruined line engulfed us, innocent.
The vision great and dread
Corroded; sole in view
Was empty Egdon spread,
Her crimson summer weeds ashake in tempest: but we knew