fire,

Deep slumber fell on me:-my dreams were Soft and delightful thoughts did rest and

hover Like shadows o'er my brain; and strange

desire, The tempest of a passion, raging over My tranquil soul, its depths with light did

cover, Which passed ; and calm, and darkness,

sweeter far Came-then I loved ; but not a human lover!

For when I rose from sleep, the Morning Star Shone through the woodbine wreaths which

round my casement were.

XLI. 'Twas like an eye which seemed to smile on

me. I watched till, by the sun made pale, it sank Under the billows of the heaving sea; But from its beams deep love my spirit drank, And to my brain the boundless world now

shrank Into one thought-one image—yes, for ever! Even like the dayspring, poured on vapours

dank, The beams of that one Star did shoot and

quiver Through my benighted mind—and were extin

guished never.

The day passed thus: at night, methought in

dream
A shape of speechless beauty did appear :

It stood like light on a careering stream
Of golden clouds which shook the atmo-

sphere;
A winged youth, his radiant brow did wear
The Morning Star: a wild dissolving bliss
Over my frame he breathed, approaching

near, And bent his eyes of kindling tenderness Near mine, and on my lips impressed a linger

ing kiss,

XLIII.

And said: a Spirit loves thee, mortal maiden, How wilt thou prove thy worth? Then joy

and sleep Together fled, my soul was deeply laden, And to the shore I went to muse and weep; But as I moved, over my heart did creep A joy less soft, but more profound and strong Than my sweet dream; and it forbade to keep The path of the sea-shore: that Spirits

tongue Seemed whispering in my heart, and bore my

steps along

XLIV. How, to that vast and peopled city led, Which was a field of holy warfare then, I walked among the dying and the dead, And shared in fearless deeds with evil men, Calm as an angel in the dragon's denHow I braved death for liberty and truth, And spurned at peace, and power, and fame;

and when Those hopes had lost the glory of their youth, How sadly I returned-might move the hearer's

XLV. Warm tears throng fast! the tale may not be

said Know then, that when this grief had been

subdued, I was not left, like others, cold and dead ; The Spirit whom I loved in solitude Sustained his child: the tempest-shaken wood, The waves, the fountains, and the hush of

nightThese were his voice, and well I understood His smile divine, when the calm sea was

bright With silent stars, and Heaven was breathless

with delight.

XLVI. In lonely glens, amid the roar of rivers, When the dim nights were moonless, have I

known Joys which no tongue can tell; my pale lip

quivers When thought revisits them :—know thou

alone, That after many wondrous years were flown, I was awakened by a shriek of woe; And over me a mystic robe was thrown,

By viewless hands, and a bright Star did glow Before my steps—the Snake then met his

mortal foe.

XLVII. Thou fearest not then the Serpent on thy

heart? Fear it! she said, with brief and passionate

And spake no more: that silence made me

start-
I looked, and we were sailing pleasantly,
Swift as a cloud between the sea and sky,
Beneath the rising moon seen far away;
Mountains of ice, like sapphire, piled on high

Hemming the horizon round, in silence lay On the still waters—these we did approach

alway.

XLVIII.
And swift and swiftergrew the vessel'smotion,
So that a dizzy trance fell on my brain-
Wild music woke me: we had passed the ocean
Which girds the pole, Nature's remotest

reign-
And we glode fast o'er a pellucid plain
Of waters, azure with the noon-tide day.
Ætherial mountains shone around—a Fane
Stood in the midst, girt by green isles which

lay On the blue sunny deep, resplendent far away.

XLIX.
It was a Temple, such as mortal hand
Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream,
Reared in the cities of enchanted land :
'Twas likest Heaven, ere yet day's purple

stream
Ebbs o’er the western forest, while the gleam
Of the unrisen moon among the clouds
Is gathering—when with many a golden beam

The thronging constellations rush in crowds, Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal

floods.

Like what may be conceived of this vast dome, When from the depths which thought can

seldom pierce Genius behoīds it rise, his native home, Girt by the deserts of the Universe, Yet, nor in painting's light, or mightier verse, Or sculpture's marble language can invest That shape to mortal sense—such glooms

immerse That incommunicable sight, and rest Upon the labouring brain and overburthened

breast.

LI.

Winding among the lawny islands fair, Whose blosmy' forests starred the shadowy

deep, The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair Its fretwork in the crystal sea did steep, Encircling that vast Fane's aërial heap: We disembarked, and through a portal wide We passed-whose roof, of moonstone carved,

did keep A glimmering o'er the forms on every side, Sculptures like life and thought; immovable,

deep-eyed.

LII.

We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof Was diamond, which had drank the light

ning's sheen In darkness, and now poured it through the

woof Of spell-inwoven clouds hung there to screen

1 This is the right word, not bloomy as in Mrs. Shelley's editions : blosmy is good old English.-ED.