Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light
Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height.
The statue, waking with immortal powers, [Footnote 10]
Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the spheres;
The indignant pyramid sublimely towers,
And braves the efforts of a host of years.
Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind;
And bright-ey'd Painting stamps the image of the mind.

II. 2.

Round their rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rise!
A timbrell'd anthem swells the gale,
And bids the God of Thunders hail; [Footnote 11]
With lowings loud the captive God replies.
Clouds of incense woo thy smile,
Scaly monarch of the Nile! [Footnote 12]
But ah! what myriads claim the bended knee? [Footnote 13]
Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea.
Proud land! what eye can trace thy mystic lore,
Lock'd up in characters as dark as night? [Footnote 14]
What eye those long, long labyrinths dare explore, [Footnote 15]
To which the parted soul oft wings her flight;
Again to visit her cold cell of clay,
Charm'd with perennial sweets, and smiling at decay?

II. 3.

On yon hoar summit, mildly bright [Footnote 16]
With purple ether's liquid light,