A blustering wind the scattered vapour crowds
And shakes the horizon, where the dawn bursts, by
A charge that fills the ashen azure sky
With rearing, galloping, mad, milky clouds.
The whole, clear day, day without mist or rain,
With leaping manes, gilt flanks, and fiery croups,
In a flight of pallid silver and foam, their troops
Career across the ether's azure plain.
And still their ardour grows, until the eve's
Black gesture cuts the vast of space, and heaves
Their masses towards the squall that landward blares,
While the ample sun of June, fallen from Heaven's vault,
Writhes, bleeding, in their vehement assault,
Like a red stallion in a rut of mares.