Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/114

 The riding Tempest—skyey cataracts Hissing around him with rebellion vain? Yea! and I lifted up my glorying voice In an 'All hail;' when, wildly resonant, As brazen chariots rushing from the war. As passion'd waters gushing from the rock, As thousand crashëd woods, the thunder cried: And at his cry the forest tops were shook As by the woodman's axe; and far and near Stagger'd the mountains with a mutter'd dread.

All hail unto the lightning! hurriedly His lurid arms are glaring through the air, Making the face of heav'n to show like hell! Let him go breathe his sulphur stench about, And, pale with death's own mission, lord the storm! Again the gleam—the glare: I turn'd to hail Death's mission: at my feet there lay the dead!