This is this world — sweet dewy blossom!' Among cool clouds and winds, but that the

One moment from his home: only the Dying to embers from their native fire!

Their timid necks and tremble; so these
both
Leant to each other trembling, and sat so
Waiting for some destruction when lo!
Foot-feather'd Mercury appear'd sublime
Beyond the tall tree tops; and in less time
Than shoots the slanted hail-storm, down
he dropt

Towards the ground; but rested not, nor

stopt

There is a sleepy dusk, an odorous shade From some approaching wonder, and behold

Those winged steeds, with snorting nostrils bold

Snuff at its faint extreme, and seem to tire,

One moment from his home: only the Dying to embers from their native fire!

sward

He with his wand light touch'd, and hea

venward

Swifter than sight was gone

fore

even be

There curl'd a purple mist around them;

soon,

It seem'd as when around the pale new

moon