Our God it was who sent this vital air in blasts, Like breath of dragons, to destroy old ‘Ād’s[363] outcasts. 110 While to the faithful it gave peace, and health, and strength; In gentle zephyrs softly breathing whole days’ length. The Prophet hath assured us God’s the soul of all. The Lord’s the ocean whence the rills of spirit fall. The strata of the heavens and earth, with all therein, Are merely straws afloat on waves where powers begin. They dance about, are carried here and there by turns; Their movement’s from the waves that power divine still churns. Decrees this they shall be at rest? At once they’re flung Aside upon the shore, there to decay like dung. 115 Wills it that they be tossed about on waves high-flown? They’re but the leaves of autumn by the wild winds blown. Now turn we from this subject, most engaging still, To learn about those angels, victims of self-will. The sins of all mankind were known to them as sure; No wickedness escapes the glance of spirits pure. In anger at such baseness they were moved to scorn; Their own defect was hidden from their sight, heaven-born. An ugly man once saw his face in looking-glass. He turned away enraged with that reflecting mass. 120 So, when one self-conceited sees another’s fault, A flame from hell is lighted in his bad heart’s vault. ’Tis pride inflames him;--holy zeal he dubs it straight; Not conscious of the vanity that makes his freight. A zeal for holiness by other tokens shines; And lights a fire by which to ashes earth declines.