Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/154

 Or else flush'd Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half-buried in the Eagle's down, Sole as a flying star shot thro' the sky Above the pillar'd town.

Nor these alone: but every legend fair Which the supreme Caucasian mind Carved out of Nature for itself was there' Not less than life design'd. Then in the towers I placed great bells that swung, Moved of themselves, with silver sound; And with choice paintings of wise men I hung The royal dais round.

For there was Milton like a seraph strong, Beside him Shakespeare bland and mild; And there the world-worn Dante grasp'd his song, And somewhat grimly smiled.