Four Fiery Steeds Impatient Of The Rein Whirled Us O'Er Sunless Ground Beneath A Sky As Void Of Sunshine, When, From That Wide Plain, Clear Tops Of Far-Off Mountains We Descry, Like A Sierra Of Cerulean Spain, All Light And Lustre. Did No Heart Reply; Yes, There Was One; For One, Asunder Fly The Thousand Links Of That Ethereal Chain; And Green Vales Open Out, With Grove And Field, And The Fair Front Of Many A Happy Home; Such Tempting Spots As Into Vision Come While Soldiers, Weary Of The Arms They Wield And Sick At Heart Of Strifeful Christendom, Gaze On The Moon By Parting Clouds Revealed.