 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Already I ware was of a Power divine,
Which hitherto had me led. Then like a dream,
Of Dawn with radiance crowned, the Muse of Britain;
Revealed was wholly unto my pensive vision;
In ivory stall enthroned, immortal bright,
Amidst the Temple-House.
Which hitherto had me led. Then like a dream,
Of Dawn with radiance crowned, the Muse of Britain;
Revealed was wholly unto my pensive vision;
In ivory stall enthroned, immortal bright,
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Her pupils shone,
Neath twin bent brows, as Lydian bow conjoined;
As I upon them gazed, like living wells;
Of starry undying light and deathless gladness:
Whose subtle streams look, all-confounding forth,
That might in World offend. A fillet binds
Her bright ringed locks, with Britains pearls beset.
Neath twin bent brows, as Lydian bow conjoined;
As I upon them gazed, like living wells;
Of starry undying light and deathless gladness:
Whose subtle streams look, all-confounding forth,
That might in World offend. A fillet binds
Her bright ringed locks, with Britains pearls beset.
Her watchet vesture broidered is, high-girt;
(The bosom sheen upgathered ín large lap;
For Virgin-Mother is the foster Muse;)
With silver threads. That precious needle-work,
Figuring wind-kisst field flowers of thé White Isle;
Fell gracious stately-pleated to Her feet;
Hewed as sea-shells we see within appear.
Whereon were laced, with curious device
Of antique art, in purple leathern work;
Buskins, whose shining knops were Albans gold.
(The bosom sheen upgathered ín large lap;
For Virgin-Mother is the foster Muse;)
With silver threads. That precious needle-work,
Figuring wind-kisst field flowers of thé White Isle;
Fell gracious stately-pleated to Her feet;
Hewed as sea-shells we see within appear.
Whereon were laced, with curious device
Of antique art, in purple leathern work;
Buskins, whose shining knops were Albans gold.
I Her reverenced, ás uplandish wight behoved.
But lest I might offend, no word I spake.
Her lips, like roses budded, I beheld;
Like gate of pearls, the pale-rows of her teeth:
When opened She Her gracious lips to speak.
But lest I might offend, no word I spake.
Her lips, like roses budded, I beheld;
Like gate of pearls, the pale-rows of her teeth:
When opened She Her gracious lips to speak.
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| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |