SECOND VOICE: from the springs.
  Thunder-bolts had parched our water,
  We had been stained with bitter blood,
  And had run mute, 'mid shrieks of slaughter
  Through a city and a solitude.

THIRD VOICE: from the Air
  I had clothed, since Earth uprose,
  Its wastes in colors not their own,
  And oft had my serene repose
  Been cloven by many a rending groan.

FOURTH VOICE: from the Whirlwinds
  We had soared beneath these mountains
  Unresting ages; nor had thunder,
  Nor yon volcano's flaming fountains,
  Nor any power above or under
  Ever made us mute with wonder.

FIRST VOICE
  But never bowed our snowy crest
  As at the voice of thine unrest.

SECOND VOICE