Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/100

86 She guided him, still holding his cold hand In her warm, dainty palm, unto a cave, Whence a rare glory issued, and a smell Of spice and roses, frankincense and balm. They entering stood within a marble hall, &quot;With straight, slim, pillars, at whose farther end The goddess led him to a spiral flight Of stairs, descending always midst black gloom Into the very bowels of the earth. Down these, with fearful swiftness, they made way, The knight s feet touching not the solid stair, But sliding down as in a vexing dream, Blind, feeling but that hand divine that still Empowered him to walk on empty air. Then he was dazzled by a sudden blaze, In a vast palace filled with reveling folk. Cunningly pictured on the ivory walls Were rolling hills, cool lakes, and boscage green, And all the summer landscape s various pomp. The precious canopy aloft was carved In semblance of the pleached forest trees, Enameled with the liveliest green, wherethrough A light pierced, more resplendent than the day. O er the pale, polished jasper of the floor The goddess led him to a massy throne Of burnished metal, fretted and embossed With all the marvelous story of her birth Painted in prodigal splendor of rich tincts,