With thy glimmering torchLightest thou himThrough the fords when 'tis night,Over bottomless placesOn desert-like plains;With the thousand colours of morningGladd'nest his bosom;With the fierce-biting stormBearest him proudly on high;Winter torrents rush from the cliffs,--Blend with his psalms;An altar of grateful delightHe finds in the much-dreaded mountain'sSnow-begirded summit,Which foreboding nationsCrown'd with spirit-dances.。， Let us haste, our footsteps blending
HASTEN thee, Kronos!On with clattering trotDownhill goeth thy path;Loathsome dizziness ever,When thou delayest, assails me.Quick, rattle along,Over stock and stone let thy trotInto life straightway lead。， Your command I receive;
This aside saw Father Asan Aga,--Sadly cried he to his darling children:"Hither come, ye dear unhappy infants,For your mother's breast is turn'd to iron,Lock'd for ever, closed to all compassion!"。， And hast a mind to-day to grieve me.Love as thy portion thou mayst claim
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