Or thronging all one porch of Paradise The dying Islamite, with hands and eyes Or mythic Uther's deeply-wounded son Or hollowing one hand against his ear, The wood-nymph, stay'd the Ausonian king to hear Of wisdom and of law. Or over hills with peaky tops engrail'd, Or sweet Europa's mantle blue unclasp d, Or else flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Sole as a flying star shot thro' the sky Above the pillar'd town. Nor these alone but every legend fair : Which the supreme Caucasian mind Carved out of Nature for itself, was there, Not less than life, design'd. Then in the towers I placed great bells that swung For there was Milton like a seraph strong, And there the Ionian father of the rest; Above, the fair hall-ceiling stately-set And angels rising and descending met Below was all mosaic choicely plann'd Of this wide world, the times of every land The people here, a beast of burden slow, The heads and crowns of kings; Here rose, an athlete, strong to break or bind And here once more like some sick man declined, But over these she trod: and those great bells To sing her songs alone. And thro' the topmost Oriels' coloured flame Plato the wise, and large-brow'd Verulam, Baron The first of those who know. lied And all those names, that in their motion were Betwixt the slender shafts were blazon'd fair In diverse raiment strange : Thro' which the lights, rose, amber, emerald, blue, Flush'd in her temples and her eyes, And from her lips, as morn from Memnon, drew Rivers of melodies. No nightingale delighteth to prolong Her low preamble all alone, More than my soul to hear her echo'd song Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, Communing with herself: "All these are mine, Making sweet close of his delicious toils- In hollow'd moons of gems, To mimic heaven; and clapt her hands and cried, "I marvel if my still delight In this great house so royal-rich, and wide, Be flatter'd to the height. "O all things fair to sate my various eyes! O shapes and hues that please me well! O silent faces of the Great and Wise, My Gods, with whom I dwell! "O God-like isolation which art mine, "In filthy sloughs they roll a prurient skin, Then of the moral instinct would she prate "I take possession of man's mind and deed. |