35
As the fierce South, or Boreas in the shade of sylvan upland where the tree-boles cluster, the branches shatt’ering crash through glooming glade with horrid hurry and infuriate fluster: Roars all the mountain, Echo moans in dread; torn is the leaf’ery, hill-heads boil and bluster: Such gusty tumults rise amid the Gods within Olympus’ consecrate abodes.