 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
18
Voice called me; and hastily a myrtle grove I passed:
And under cedars' perfumed sailing boughs;
Wherein were hanging nests of sacred-doves.
Soon, ín their midst, a Sanctuary I beheld;
Not haughty, nor yet lowly; whose open front,
Embellished was with fretted marble work.
And under cedars' perfumed sailing boughs;
Wherein were hanging nests of sacred-doves.
Soon, ín their midst, a Sanctuary I beheld;
Not haughty, nor yet lowly; whose open front,
Embellished was with fretted marble work.
Nor laid mens hands had courses of these walls:
But each stone drawn from craig-strewn mountain-ground;
Was raised in days of thé old Golden World;
Into its place, as to us delivered is:
By the all-prevailing Sun-Gods harmonies.
But each stone drawn from craig-strewn mountain-ground;
Was raised in days of thé old Golden World;
Into its place, as to us delivered is:
By the all-prevailing Sun-Gods harmonies.
Therein a glad-eyed priestess-maiden, clothed
In pure white line, on ever-burning hearth;
An hallowed flame betes, that gleaned sheaf ere was,
Of sunbeams; whiles yet ín Earth-World dwelled Gods.
Whence fuming incense doth embalm his brain;
Who, a Muses nourseling, can interpret face
Of skies, seas aspect, stars' cold influence;
And wind and woods' and floods' inanimate voice;
Lives creatures cries, in whom pulse ís and breath;
And metely endite thereof, in deathless verse.
Thereto the cónsecrated vestals hands,
In daily service, tine the golden lamps;
Pendent from gilded roof-tree óf the House:
Figuring, as stars in dark World, vates' light.
In pure white line, on ever-burning hearth;
An hallowed flame betes, that gleaned sheaf ere was,
Of sunbeams; whiles yet ín Earth-World dwelled Gods.
Whence fuming incense doth embalm his brain;
Who, a Muses nourseling, can interpret face
Of skies, seas aspect, stars' cold influence;
And wind and woods' and floods' inanimate voice;
Lives creatures cries, in whom pulse ís and breath;
19
Thereto the cónsecrated vestals hands,
In daily service, tine the golden lamps;
Pendent from gilded roof-tree óf the House:
Figuring, as stars in dark World, vates' light.
And midst the Sanctuary-court, a palm-stem rears,
Which tree-of-life is named, her peerless head.
Nor waxeth old, in Suns succeeding years,
The sacred plant; whose golden mammels bears
The maidens daily meat, ambrosial fruit.
Which tree-of-life is named, her peerless head.
Nor waxeth old, in Suns succeeding years,
The sacred plant; whose golden mammels bears
The maidens daily meat, ambrosial fruit.
And a broad-leaved fig flourisheth fast beside
The porch; whose wreathed wild roots, without the walls;
Drink, in their season, flinty nourishment;
Of seldom trickling torrents droughty bed:
Which flows when heavéns timely rains descend;
From eaves and dripping shelves of nígh craig-cliff.
The porch; whose wreathed wild roots, without the walls;
Drink, in their season, flinty nourishment;
Of seldom trickling torrents droughty bed:
Which flows when heavéns timely rains descend;
From eaves and dripping shelves of nígh craig-cliff.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |