Vault, O young winds, vault in your tricksome courses

Upon the snowy steeds that reinless use

In coerule pampas of the heaven to run;

Foaled of the white sea-horses,

Washed in the lambent waters of the sun.

Let even the slug-abed snail upon the thorn

Mine elemental co-mates, joy each one;

And ah, my foster-brethren, seem not sad--