So an age ended, and its last deliverer died

In bed, grown idle and unhappy; they were safe:

The sudden shadow of a giant’s enormous calf

Would fall no more at dusk across their lawns outside.

They slept in peace: in marshes here and there no doubt

A sterile dragon lingered to a natural death,

But in a year the spoor had vanished from the heath:

A kobold’s knocking in the mountain petered out.

Only the sculptors and the poets were half sad,

And the pert retinue from the magician’s house

Grumbled and went elsewhere. The vanished powers were glad

To be invisible and free; without remorse

Struck down the sons who strayed in their course,

And ravished the daughters, and drove the fathers mad.