IV. But stay! these walls-these ivy-clad arcades— These vague entablatures-this crumbling frieze- By the corrosive hours to Fate and ine? V. "Not all!" the echoes answer me; "not all! As melody from Memnon to the sun. Not all our power is gone-not all our fame- Not all the mysteries that in us lie- I SAW thee once-once only-years ago- It was a July midnight; and from out A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven, There fell a silvery-silken veil of light, With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber, Upon the upturned faces of a thousand II. Clad all in white, upon a violet bank III. Was it not Fate that, on this July midnight,- And in an instant all things disappeared. All-all expired save thee-save less than thou: I saw but them—they were the world to me; How dark a woe! yet how sublime a hope! How daring an ambition! yet how deep, How fathomless a capacity for love! IV. But now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight They have not left me (as my hopes have) since. Their office is to illumine and enkindle- And sanctified in their elysian fire. They fill my soul with beauty (which is hope), |