Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/253

BOOK VIII.] The scene before him stands in perfect view

Exposed, and lifeless as a written book!—

But let him pause awhile, and look again,

And a new quickening shall succeed, at first

Beginning timidly, then creeping fast,

Till the whole cave, so late a senseless mass,

Busies the eye with images and forms

Boldly assembled,—here is shadowed forth

From the projections, wrinkles, cavities,

A variegated landscape,—there the shape

Of some gigantic warrior clad in mail,

The ghostly semblance of a hooded monk,

Veiled nun, or pilgrim resting on his staff:

Strange congregation! yet not slow to meet

Eyes that perceive through minds that can inspire.

Even in such sort had I at first been moved,

Nor otherwise continued to be moved,

As I explored the vast metropolis,

Fount of my country's destiny and the world's;

That great emporium, chronicle at once

And burial-place of passions, and their home

Imperial, their chief living residence.

With strong sensations teeming as it did