In his rich robes sacerdotal,
Singing with his golden psalter.
Comes he now to wed the twain--
Truth and Beauty--
Rest and Duty--
Hope, and Fear, and Joy, and Pain,
Unite for weal or woe beneath the Poet's chain!

And the shapes that follow after,
Some in tears and some in laughter,
Are they not the fairy phantoms
In his glorious vision seen?
Nymphs from shady forests wending,
Goddesses from heaven descending;
Three of Jove's divinest daughters,
Nine from Aganippe's waters;
And the passion-immolated,
Too fond-hearted Tyrian Queen,
Various shapes of one idea,
Memory-haunting,
Heart-enchanting,
Cythna, Genevieve, and Nea,[14]
Rosalind and all her sisters,
Born by Avon's sacred stream,
All the blooming
Shapes, illuming
The Eternal Pilgrim's dream,[15]
Follow the Poet's steps beneath the morning's beam.

But the Bride--the Bride is coming!