LXII + 

“Wounds! how they shout!” said Hum, “and there,⁠—see, see, + 

Th’ ambassador’s return’d from Pigmio! + 

The morning’s very fine,⁠—uncommonly! + 

See, past the skirts of yon white cloud they go, + 

Tinging it with soft crimsons! Now below + 

The sable-pointed heads of firs and pines + 

They dip, move on, and with them moves a glow + 

Along the forest side! Now amber lines + 

Reach the hill top, and now throughout the valley shines.” + 