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Bastion'd with pyramids of glowing gold, And touch'd with shade of bronzed obelisks, Glared a blood-red through all its thousand courtS; Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries, And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds Flush'd angerly: while sometimes eagles' wings, Unseen before by Gods or wondering men, Darken'd the place; and neighing steeds were heard Not heard before by Gods or wondering men, Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths Of incense, breathed aloft from sacred hills, Instead of sweets, his ample palate took Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick: And so, when harbor'd in the sleepy west, After the full completion of fair day, For rest divine upon exalted couch, And slumber in the arms of melody, He paced away the pleasant hours of ease With stride colossal, on from hall to hall; While far within each aisle and deep recess, His winged minions in close clusters stood, Amazed and full of fear; like anxious men Who on wide plains gather in panting troops, When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers. Even now, while Saturn, roused from icy trance, Went step for step with Thea through the woods, Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear, Came slope upon the threshold of the west; Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope In smoothed silence, save what solemn tubes, Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies;