| |
| HIGH towered the palace and its massive pile, | |
| Made dubious if of nature or of art, | |
| So wild and so uncouth; yet, all the while, | |
| Shaped to strange grace in every varying part. | |
| |
| And groves adorned it, green in hue, and bright | 5 |
| As icicles about a laurel-tree; | |
| And danced about their twigs a wondrous light; | |
| Whence came that light so far beneath the sea? | |
| |
| Zophiël looked up to know, and to his view | |
| The vault scarce seemed less vast than that of day; | 10 |
| No rocky roof was seen, a tender blue | |
| Appeared, as of the sky, and clouds about it play; | |
| |
| And, in the midst, an orb looked as ’t were meant | |
| To shame the sun; it mimicked him so well. | |
| But ah! no quickening, grateful warmth it sent; | 15 |
| Cold as the rock beneath, the paly radiance fell. | |
| |
| Within, from thousand lamps the lustre strays, | |
| Reflected back from gems about the wall; | |
| And from twelve dolphin shapes a fountain plays, | |
| Just in the centre of the spacious hall: | 20 |
| |
| But whether in the sunbeam formed to sport, | |
| These shapes once lived in suppleness and pride, | |
| And then, to decorate this wondrous court, | |
| Were stolen from the waves and petrified, | |
| |
| Or, moulded by some imitative Gnome, | 25 |
| And scaled all o’er with gems, they were but stone, | |
| Casting their showers and rainbows ’neath the dome, | |
| To man or angel’s eye might not be known. | |
| |
| No snowy fleece in these sad realms was found, | |
| Nor silken ball, by maiden loved so well; | 30 |
| But ranged in lightest garniture around, | |
| In seemly folds a shining tapestry fell. | |
| |
| And fibres of asbestos, bleached in fire, | |
| And all with pearls and sparkling gems o’er-flecked, | |
| Of that strange court composed the rich attire, | 35 |
| And such the cold, fair form of sad Tahathyam decked. | |
| |
| Of marble white the table they surround, | |
| And reddest coral decked each curious couch, | |
| Which softly yielding to their forms was found, | |
| And of a surface smooth and wooing to the touch. | 40 |
| |
| Of sunny gold and silver, like the moon, | |
| Here was no lack; but if the veins of earth, | |
| Torn open by man’s weaker race, so soon | |
| Supplied the alluring hoard, or here had birth | |
| |
| That baffling, maddening, fascinating art, | 45 |
| Half told by Sprite most mischievous, that he | |
| Might laugh to see men toil, then not impart, | |
| The guests left unenquired:—’t is still a mystery. | |
| |
| Here were no flowers, but a sweet odor breathed, | |
| Of amber pure, a glistening coronal, | 50 |
| Of various-colored gems, each brow enwreathed, | |
| In form of garland, for the festival. | |
| |
