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THE THREE BROTHERS.
I
Into his gorgeous halls the Painter ledThe Poet with his volume in his hand;
He said—‘All these I have accomplished,
In form and hue like very Gods they stand:
And Death and Fate I vanquish, if I please,
With shadows, and mine only foe is Time;
Can any come in glory like to these
Out of thy dim and melancholy clime?’
II
In twilight sanctuaries there were seenShapes more than Man, the Mighty that had been;
Wonder and love flow'd round them like a psalm
Lock'd in eternal strife, or throned in calm:
Giants of marble, Demigods and Kings,
Who with their names, like overshadowing wings,
Darken the Earth's faint light, and little span;
Whose deathless beauty mocks their maker Man.
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III
The rapturous Musician bade unbindThe spirit that obey'd him when he will'd,
And blisses sweet as odor, fleet as wind,
Pass'd from him, and the solemn dome was fill'd;
He breathed enchanted breath that o'er the sense
Trembled, like fiery light on crisped streams,
And lull'd the painful soul, and bore it hence
Into a land of moonlight and of dreams.
IV
Evening came down, and darkness closed aroundThose shapes, and silence swallow'd up that sound;
But He his magic volume did unroll,
And show'd the threefold image of his soul;
He show'd them fix'd therein the fluttering thought
That Music scatters, into substance brought,
And godlike moments, which the Painters strive
To bind with fetters, moving and alive.
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