"Not all "the Echoes answer me- not all! Not all the mysteries that in us lie---- ΤΟ OT long ago, the writer of these lines, In the mad pride of intellectuality, Maintained" the power of words "-denied that ever A thought arose within the human brain Beyond the utterance of the human tongue : ΤΟ And now, as if in mockery of that boast, That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill," Than even the seraph harper, Israfel, 66 (Who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures,") Could hope to utter. And I my spells are broken. The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand. With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee, I cannot write--I cannot speak or think Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling, This standing motionless upon the golden Upon the left, and all the way along, Amid unpurpled vapours, far away To where the prospect terminates-thee only. |