Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/57



A hundred waterfalls, whose voices come But as the murmuring surge. Chilly and numb His bosom grew, when first he, far away, Described an orbed diamond, set to fray Old Darkness from his throne: 'twas like the sun Uprisen o'er chaos: and with such a stun Came the amazement, that, absorb'd in it, He saw not fiercer wonders—past the wit Of any spirit to tell, but one of those Who, when this planet's sphering time doth close. Will be its high remembrancers: who they? The mighty ones who have made eternal day For Greece and England. While astonishment With deep-drawn sighs was quieting, he went Into a marble gallery, passing through A mimic temple, so complete and true In sacred custom, that he well-nigh fear'd To search it inwards; whence far off appear'd, Through a long pillar'd vista, a fair shrine, And, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine, A quiver'd Dian. Stepping awfully, The youth approach'd; oft turning his veil'd eye Down sidelong aisles, and into niches old: And, when more near against the marble cold He had touch'd his forehead, he began to thread All courts and passages, where silence dead, Roused by his whispering footsteps, murmur'd faint; And long he traversed to and fro, to acquaint Himself with every mystery, and awe; Till, weary, he sat down before the maw Of a wide outlet, fathomless and dim, To wild uncertainty and shadows grim.