THE PALACE OF ART.
79
XXXV.
And round the terraces and round the walls,
While day sank lower or rose higher,
To see those rails with all their knobs and balls,
Burn like a fringe of fire.
And round the terraces and round the walls,
While day sank lower or rose higher,
To see those rails with all their knobs and balls,
Burn like a fringe of fire.
XXXVI.
Likewise the deepset windows, stained and traced,
Burned, like slowflaming crimson fires,
From shadowed grots of arches interlaced,
And topped with frostlike spires.
Likewise the deepset windows, stained and traced,
Burned, like slowflaming crimson fires,
From shadowed grots of arches interlaced,
And topped with frostlike spires.
XXXVII.
Up 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 daïs round.
Up 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 daïs round.
XXXVIII.
There deephaired Milton like an angel tall
Stood limnèd, Shakspeare bland and mild,
Grim Dante pressed his lips, and from the wall
The hald blind Homer smiled.
There deephaired Milton like an angel tall
Stood limnèd, Shakspeare bland and mild,
Grim Dante pressed his lips, and from the wall
The hald blind Homer smiled.
