They pass to outrage, shout, and ire, unsheath The brand; and loudly smites each cruel foe;
Like winds, which scarce at first appear to breathe, Next shake the oak and ash-tree as they blow;
Then to the skies upwhirl the dusty wreath, Then level forests, and lay houses low, And bear the storm abroad, o'er land and main, By which the flocks in greenwood-holt are slain.
