Army of Clouds! ye wingèd Host in troops Ascending from behind the motionless brow Of that tall rock,[242] as from a hidden world, O whither with[243] such eagerness of speed? What seek ye, or what shun ye? of the gale[244] 5 Companions, fear ye to be left behind, Or racing o’er[245] your blue ethereal field Contend ye with each other? of the sea Children, thus post ye over vale and height[246] To sink upon your mother’s lap--and rest?[247] 10 Or were ye rightlier hailed, when first mine eyes Beheld in your impetuous march the likeness Of a wide army pressing on to meet Or overtake some unknown enemy?-- But your smooth motions suit a peaceful aim; 15 And Fancy, not less aptly pleased, compares Your squadrons to an endless flight of birds Aerial, upon due migration bound To milder climes; or rather do ye urge In caravan your hasty pilgrimage 20 To pause at last on more aspiring heights Than these,[248] and utter your devotion there With thunderous voice? Or are ye jubilant, And would ye, tracking your proud lord the Sun, Be present at his setting; or the pomp 25 Of Persian mornings would ye fill, and stand Poising your splendours high above the heads Of worshippers kneeling to their up-risen God? Whence, whence, ye Clouds! this eagerness of speed? Speak, silent creatures.--They are gone, are fled, 30 Buried together in yon gloomy mass That loads the middle heaven; and clear and bright And vacant doth the region which they thronged Appear; a calm descent of sky conducting Down to the unapproachable abyss, 35 Down to that hidden gulf from which they rose To vanish--fleet as days and months and years, Fleet as the generations of mankind, Power, glory, empire, as the world itself, The lingering world, when time hath ceased to be. 40 But the winds roar, shaking the rooted trees, And see! a bright precursor to a train Perchance as numerous, overpeers the rock That sullenly refuses to partake Of the wild impulse. From a fount of life 45 Invisible, the long procession moves Luminous or gloomy, welcome to the vale Which they are entering, welcome to mine eye That sees them, to my soul that owns in them, And in the bosom of the firmament 50 O’er which they move, wherein they are contained, A type of her capacious self and all Her restless progeny.