See, they return; ah, see the tentative Movements, and the slow feet,
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain Wavering!
See, they return, one by one,
With fear, as half-awakened;
As if the snow should hesitate And murmur in the wind, and half turn back;
These were the "Wing'd-with-Awe," Inviolable.
Gods of the Wingèd shoe!
With them the silver hounds, sniffing the trace of air!
Haie!
Haie!
These were the swift to harry;
These the keen-scented;
These were the souls of blood.
Slow on the leash, pallid the leash-men!
