The purple to a blue transforms itself;
The gnomes of dawn are hard at work
Transmuting the base metal into finer gold.
As distant fire, urging on the horses of wild Fear
Mounts higher and more high,
So Apollo urges on his horses, and the golden gleam
Of his chariot heralds itself
To follow after.
The horizon blazes with the power of Light—
More red and fiery grows the hue;