That ride on my back, and wrench them asunder
And lash them with sea-streams; or I let them again
Glide back together. It is the greatest of noises,
40 Of clamoring crowds, of crashes the loudest,
When clouds as they strive in their courses shall strike
Edge against edge; inky of hue
In flight o’er the folk bright fire they sweat,
A stream of flame; destruction they carry
45 Dark over men with a mighty din.
Fighting they fare. They let fall from their bosom