Changing their special garlands as they choose.
O spirit of rage and might,
Who canst unchain the links of winter stark,
And bid earth’s stubborn metals flow like oil,
Her porphyrous heart-veins boil; 1272
Whose arrows pierce the cloudy shields of dark;
Let now this flame, which did to life awaken
Beyond the cold dew-gathering veils of morn,
And thence by me was taken,
And in this reed was borne,