92
Orion.
[Book III.
Sad twilight, and thick dews darkening the paths
Whereon the slow dawn hath not yet advanced
A chilly foot, nor tinged the colourless air—
The labouring figure fades as it ascends.
Whereon the slow dawn hath not yet advanced
A chilly foot, nor tinged the colourless air—
The labouring figure fades as it ascends.
'T was he, the giant builder-up of things,
And of himself, now blind; the worker great,
Who sees no more the substance near his hands,
Nor in them, nor the objects that his mind
Desires and would embody. All is dark.
It is Orion now bereft of sight,
Whose eyes aspired to luminous designs.
The sun and moon and stars are blotted out,
With their familiar glories, which become
Henceforth like chronicles remote. The earth
Forbids him to cleave deep and trace her roots,
And veins, and quarries: Whose wide purposes
Are narrowed now into the safest path:
Whose lofty visions are all packed in his brain,
As though the heavens no further could unfold
Their wonders, but turned inward on themselves;
Like a bright flower that closes in the night
For the last time, and dreams of by-gone suns
Ne'er to be clasped again: Thou art reduced
And of himself, now blind; the worker great,
Who sees no more the substance near his hands,
Nor in them, nor the objects that his mind
Desires and would embody. All is dark.
It is Orion now bereft of sight,
Whose eyes aspired to luminous designs.
The sun and moon and stars are blotted out,
With their familiar glories, which become
Henceforth like chronicles remote. The earth
Forbids him to cleave deep and trace her roots,
And veins, and quarries: Whose wide purposes
Are narrowed now into the safest path:
Whose lofty visions are all packed in his brain,
As though the heavens no further could unfold
Their wonders, but turned inward on themselves;
Like a bright flower that closes in the night
For the last time, and dreams of by-gone suns
Ne'er to be clasped again: Thou art reduced
