| |
| NOT Aladdin magian | |
| Ever such a work began; | |
| Not the wizard of the Dee | |
| Ever such a dream could see; | |
| Not Saint John, in Patmos’ isle, | 5 |
| In the passion of his toil, | |
| When he saw the churches seven, | |
| Golden aisled, built up in heaven, | |
| Gazed at such a rugged wonder! | |
| As I stood its roofing under, | 10 |
| Lo! I saw one sleeping there, | |
| On the marble cold and bare; | |
| While the surges washed his feet, | |
| And his garments white did beat, | |
| Drenched about the sombre rocks; | 15 |
| On his neck his well-grown locks, | |
| Lifted dry above the main, | |
| Were upon the curl again. | |
| “What is this? and what art thou?” | |
| Whispered I, and touched his brow; | 20 |
| “What art thou? and what is this?” | |
| Whispered I, and strove to kiss | |
| The spirit’s hand, to wake his eyes. | |
| Up he started in a trice: | |
| “I am Lycidas,” said he, | 25 |
| “Famed in fun’ral minstrelsy! | |
| This was architectured thus | |
| By the great Oceanus!— | |
| Here his mighty waters play | |
| Hollow organs all the day; | 30 |
| Here, by turns, his dolphins all, | |
| Finny palmers, great and small, | |
| Come to pay devotion due,— | |
| Each a mouth of pearls must strew! | |
| Many a mortal of these days | 35 |
| Dares to pass our sacred ways; | |
| Dares to touch, audaciously, | |
| This cathedral of the sea! | |
| I have been the pontiff-priest, | |
| Where the waters never rest, | 40 |
| Where a fledgy sea-bird choir | |
| Soars forever! Holy fire | |
| I have hid from mortal man; | |
| Proteus is my sacristan! | |
| But the dulled eye of mortal | 45 |
| Hath passed beyond the rocky portal; | |
| So forever will I leave | |
| Such a taint, and soon unweave | |
| All the magic of the place.” | |
| So saying, with a spirit’s glance | 50 |
| He dived! | |
| |
