MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
299
Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear,
Is sloping[1] to the threshold of the West.]
Thither wc tend." Now in the clear light I stood,
Relieved from the dusk vale. Mnemosyne
Was sitting on a square-edged polished stone,
That in its lucid depth reflected pure
Her priestess' garments. My quick eyes ran on
[From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault,
Through bow'rs of fragrant and enwreathed light,
And diamond-paned lustrous long arcades ]
Anon rush'd by the bright Hyperion
[His flaming robes stream'd out beyond his heels,
And gave a roar as if of earthy fire,
That scared away the meek ethereal hours,
And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared.]
Here MS. ends.
- ↑ Came slope upon.
