CLII. Turn to the Mole which Hadrian rear'd on high, (67) Imperial mimic of old Egypt's piles, Colossal copyist of deformity, Whose travell❜d phantasy from the far Nile's To build for giants, and for his vain earth To view the huge design which sprung from such a birth! CLIII. But lo! the dome—the vast and wondrous dome, (68) Christ's mighty shrine above his martyr's tomb! Its columns strew the wilderness, and dwell Their glittering mass i' the sun, and have survey'd Its sanctuary the while the usurping Moslem pray'd, CLIV. But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty, Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled In this eternal ark of worship undefiled. CLV. Enter its grandeur overwhelms thee not; .CLVI. Thou movest-but increasing with the advance, Like climbing some great Alp, which still doth rise, Deceived by its gigantic elegance; Vastness which grows-but grows to harmonizeAll musical in its immensities; Rich marbles-richer painting-shrines where flame The lamps of gold-and haughty dome which vies In air with Earth's chief structures, though their frame Sits on the firm-set ground—and this the clouds must claim. CLVII. Thou seest not all; but piecemeal thou must break, And as the ocean many bays will make, In mighty graduations, part by part, The glory which at once upon thee did not dart, CLVIII. Not by its fault-but thine: Our outward sense That what we have of feeling most intense Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate CLIX. Then pause, and be enlighten'd; there is more Of wonder pleased, or awe which would adore Its depth, and thence may draw the mind of man Its golden sands, and learn what great conceptions can. CLX.. Or, turning to the Vatican, go see With an immortal's patience blending :-Vain The struggle; vain, against the coiling strain And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, The old man's clench; the long envenom'd chain Rivets the living links,-the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp. CLXI. Or view the Lord of the unerring bow, The God of life, and poesy, and light— The Sun in human limbs array'd, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight; The shaft hath just been shot-the arrow bright With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye And nostril beautiful disdain, and might, And majesty, flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity. |