Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/252

230 Should have such mighty sway! yet so it was),

A weight of ages did at once descend

Upon my heart; no thought embodied, no

Distinct remembrances, but weight and power,—

Power growing under weight: alas! I feel

That I am trifling: 'twas a moment's pause,—

All that took place within me came and went

As in a moment; yet with Time it dwells,

And grateful memory, as a thing divine.

The curious traveller, who, from open day,

Hath passed with torches into some huge cave,

The Grotto of Antiparos, or the Den

In old time haunted by that Danish Witch,

Yordas; he looks around and sees the vault

Widening on all sides; sees, or thinks he sees,

Erelong, the massy roof above his head,

That instantly unsettles and recedes,—

Substance and shadow, light and darkness, all

Commingled, making up a canopy

Of shapes and forms and tendencies to shape

That shift and vanish, change and interchange

Like spectres,—ferment silent and sublime!

That after a short space works less and less,

Till, every effort, every motion gone,