Bloom round their feet alway;
XXXIV.
And plants of gold—some burn beneath the sea,
And some, for garlands apt, the land doth bear,
And lacks not many an incense-breathing tree,
Enriching all that air.
XXXV.
Nor need is more, with sullen strength of hand
To vex the stubborn earth, or plough the main;
They dwell apart, a calm heroic band,