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Rh With towers that faded up in air, With amethyst and silver spires, And casements lit with precious fires, And mythic forms with wings outspread, And faces from which light was shed, High upon gleaming pillars set On turret and on parapet. The bells were chiming all around And the sweet air was drunk with sound.

Too swift did Michael pass to see Ildathach's mystic chivalry Graved on the walls, its queens and kings Girt round with eyes and stars and wings. The magic boat with Michael drew To some deep being that he knew, Some mystery that to the wise Is clouded o'er by Paradise, Some will that would not let him stay Hurried the boat away, away. At last its fiery wings were still, Folded beneath some heavenly hill. But was that Michael light as air Was travelling up the mighty stair? Or had impetuous desire Woven for him that form of fire, Which with no less a light did shine Than those with countenance divine Who thronged the gateway as he came, Faces of rapture and of flame, The glowing, deep, unwavering eyes Of those eternity makes wise. And lofty things to him were said As to one risen from the dead. What there beyond the gate befell Michael could never after tell. Imagination still would fail Some height too infinite to scale, Some being too profound to scan,