The tenant-statues with their marble life
Peopled the shades.
But, wondering most, we marked
A princely labyrinth of plants and flowers,
All palace-lodged, and breathing forth their sweets
On an undying summer's balmy breast.
And well might wealth expend itself for you,
Flowers, glorious flowers! that dwelt in Eden's bound,
Yet sinned not, fell not, and whose silent speech
Is of a better Paradise, where ye,
Catching the essence of the deathless soul,
Shall never fade.
Throughout the noble pile
Pictures and spars and vases, and the show
Of alabaster, porphyry, and gold,
Blend with a lavishness that ne'er offends
The eye of taste. Had I the skill to tell
Featly of halls, that like Arabia's dream
O'erflow with all that Fancy can devise,
To strike, to charm, to dazzle, and delight,
Here were full scope. But I have dwelt too long
Within a simple forest-land, to know
The fitting terms for such magnificence.
So, from the painted ceilings, and the light
Of costly mirrors, 't was relief to seek
The shaded gallery of sculptured forms,
And taste the luxury of musing thought.
Spin on, most beautiful!
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