FROM
THE SEVENTH RING
Let but of starry things today our discourse be!
I would exult, but ah, a wonder pales my veins:
Wisdom's disciple solves the Veda's mystery
And by one stroke from him the blind man's darkness wanes.
A child from Eden bears with unfelt dignity
The jewel costlier than many a king's domains.
The furnace glows; coated the plaque; take up your lamp.
The paillon striped with colors of the rainbow mold,
And now make fast with fire the sparkling dust of gold
In pigments thick and dull with which your brush is damp.
With laurel leaves will you the brow with glory stamp
Of dreamer, lover, potentate, or hero bold?
With what god will you paint coiled fold on fold
'Gainst sombre skies scaled hydra, and green hippocamp?
No. Rather on this radiant discus of sapphire
Trace the proud profile of a warrior of Ophir,
Bradamante, Aude, Penthesilee, or Thalestriste;
And that her beauty become still more terrible
Casque her bright tresses with a writhing winged beast,
And under golden Gorgons make her bosom swell.
