University of Virginia Library

As one who standeth in a flitting dream,
Wherein fantastic shapes perplexing teem
To startle and surprise—we stand and look
On thee, strange Structure! Doth a thunder-stroke
Come noiselessly upon thee now?—not so.
We look again—and still thy glorious brow
Is lowered but not struck down—yet might we think
We stood where toppling on Destruction's brink
Old earthquake-ruined cities shook—but all
Is subjected to Stillness' softest thrall—
There is no breath to shake the silvery air,
But only to enrich with fragrance rare,
With melody and freshness, clear and pure,
And still thou stand'st—uninjured and secure!
Whilst in a pleased astonishment we gaze
On thee, fair Fabric! many feelings raise
Changeful emotions in the mind, an awe
Creeps slowly o'er us, while our thoughts withdraw
By quick, yet imperceptible degrees
(Wafted o'er Time's sea by a favouring breeze)
From the more common things of common life!
Something of magic influence with sweet strife
Seizes on all our faculties—around
A sense of mystery broodeth without bound.
We may not raise nor pierce the veil of years
Which floats round this rare structure, that appears
The work of weird and supernatural hands—
That still seems sinking—sinking where it stands!
Thou ever-bending Tower! whose head is yet
'Mongst swift-winged clouds and rays of glory set;
Thine origin and aim are lost and hid,
A thousand changes and events amid;
Who can declare for what thou wast designed?
Mayhap some vain caprice of the human mind
Gave thee to attract and yet repulse the eye,
A strange, elaborate, bright deformity!
Or was't above some grave that thou wert raised,
And therefore was thy towering front abased
That thou mightest look a marble mourner there,
For ever sorrowing, and for ever fair,
As if to bring conflicting thoughts to birth,
As though at once to point to Heaven and Earth!
To lean towards human things and ground-formed ties—
To lean to all that in Earth's bosom lies—
And leaning, still to aspire unto the skies!
For thus thou dost—thou slant yet soaring Tower,
That seem'st but chartered to endure an hour!
Thou shinest unto my fondly-lingering eye
The type of Hope and of Humility!
Balanced 'twixt two attractions, deep and strong,
Say, hast thou vibrated and trembled long?
The Eternal Mother draws thee to her breast,
Do yon fair Firmaments thy fall arrest?
How long shalt thou stay hovering 'twixt the twain,
As though suspended by some viewless chain?
How long bewilder the astonished sight,
Leaning athwart the Horizon and the Light?
Say, wert thou haply meant, severe, to preach
With eloquence—that asks no aid from speech—
Unto the dwellers in this City's walls,
(Whether in cabinned cells or palace halls)
Sternly, of change and ruin and decay,
That wait their certain and appointed day;
And like the Herald that in Philip's ear
Cried loud, his dismal warning-note of fear,
“Remember thou art mortal,”—still remind
Thus—as in tottering helplessness inclined,
That noblest fanes have bowed beneath the stroke,
As shrinks the sea-beat cliff, and bends the oak,
Howe'er with beauty and with strength endowed,—
Have yet beneath the stroke submissive bowed;
And that the proudest domes that man can rear
Must earthwards stoop, yet nearer and more near;
And tower and temple, pillar, arch, and shrine,
Or soon or late, their lofty pride resign;
And worn, and stained, and grey, must crumbling sink,
And, nodding, tremble on stern Ruin's brink,
And woo the Ivy's veil to enshroud them round,
Ere yet they fall and load the encumbered ground.
As Cæsar—dignified in Death—of old
Drew round his form the robe's o'ershadowing fold,
And covering up from sight his altered face,
Fell at the unshaken statue's blood-stained base.

Threatening thyself, thou hast stood from age to age,
And yet continuest that strange strife to wage.
How long shalt thou maintain that wayward war,
Warped from the rigorous perpendicular?
Thou makest the dwellings and the domes around,
Albeit, with harmony and beauty crowned,
Look rigid and unlovely in compare
With thee, thus delicately poised in air!
A strange fantastic charm's on thee impressed,
A wild, unearthly air doth thee invest;
A sort of dreamy, willowy grace attends
That form which thus so beautifully bends—
How dost thou chain and captivate the glance
With thy most rare eccentric elegance!

I gaze on thee with secret pride, to view
The daring of Man's hand and Genius too,
And recognize our Human Nature's might
With an exulting and a strong delight,
Through long, long ages, now wrapped round with night,
Through changeful chances, and through mixed events
And jarrings of this world's strange elements,
That vary still the common course of things—
Which History's column to our notice brings
Through these—through all—through every shadowing veil,
Our Human Nature's power I trace and hail!

Thou lean'st, as Time himself on thee had leant,
And slightly shaken thee, and gently bent—
Choosing thee for his staff—proud monument!
Amidst this beautiful and wonderous land,
So wronged and injured by his barbarous hand,
And as he had been wrought upon to spare,
Thus left thee standing as his Conqueror there!
Thus leaves thee still—unshattered—unsubdued—
A bright memorial of his milder mood!
Full many a stately dome and glorious fane
May I behold ere thee I view again,
But Memory still thine image shall retain—
And even in Memory shalt thou haply make
The chilled frame shudder, and the senses ache.
Thou startlest, yet delightest the Soul the while—
How much—thou magical and matchless pile!
Thou shock'st, yet pleasest too, the Soul and Sense,
Alarm'st their fears, yet winn'st their confidence!
Beautiful-terrible—in sooth thou art—
How checkest thou now the beatings of my heart!
Which yet leans to thee, as thou leanest to Earth,
(As loath to leave its beauty and its mirth.)
On thy smooth surface not one stain appears
To speak of tempest-scathe, or shock of years;
Almost appear'st thou, methinks, to play
At Failure—and at Weakness—and Decay!
Like some fair child, that, fearless and elate,
Assumes of reverend age the unequal gait,
Teaches the vigorous limbs, firm, straight, and strong,
To drag in lifeless, helpless guise, along,
With arch, bold mimickry—and all the while
Retains its own smooth brow—its own bright smile!
Thou fair and fairy Tower, even so dost thou
Seem but in mockery thus—to bend and bow!