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!