Upon the parched earth, gently, drop by drop.
Nothing is trifling that love consecrates."
New associations ruffling this mood away, the spirit of his fierce mission sweeps through his soul, and his voice has the sonorous accents of a clarion:
"I cannot be
The meek and gentle thing that thou wouldst have me.
The wren is happy on its humble spray;
But the fierce eagle revels in the storm.
Terror and tempest darken in his path;
He gambols mid the thunder; mocks the bolt