SO that my soul beholding in her pride
    All these, from room to room did pass;
And all things that she saw, she multiplied,
    A manyfacèd glass;

And, being both the sower and the seed,
    Remaining in herself became
All that she saw, Madonna, Ganymede,
    Or the Asiatic dame——

“From change to change four times within the womb
    The brain is moulded,” she began,
“So through all phases of all thought I come
    Into the perfect man.

“All nature widens upward: evermore
    The simpler essence lower lies.
More complex is more perfect, owning more
    Discourse, more widely wise.

“I take possession of men’s minds and deeds.
    I live in all things great and small.
I dwell apart, holding no forms of creeds,
    But contemplating all,”

Four ample courts there were, East, West, South, North,
    In each a squarèd lawn wherefrom
A golden-gorgèd dragon spouted forth
    The fountain’s diamond foam.

All round the cool green courts there ran a row
    Of cloisters, branched like mighty woods,
Echoing all night to that sonorous flow
    Of spouted fountain-floods.

From those four jets four currents in one swell
    Over the black rock streamed below
In steamy folds, that, floating as they fell,
    Lit up a torrentbow;

And round the roofs ran gilded galleries
    That gave large view to distant lands.
Tall towns and mounds, and close beneath the skies
    Long lines of amber sands.

Huge incense-urns along the balustrade,
    Hollowed of solid amethyst,
Each with a different odor fuming, made
    The air a silver mist.

Far-off ’twas wonderful to look upon
    Those sumptuous towers between the gleam
Of that great foambow trembling in the sun,
    And the argent incense-steam;

And round the terraces and round the walls,
    While day sank lower or rose higher,
To see those rails with all their knobs and balls,
    Burn like a fringe of fire.

Likewise the deepset windows, stained and traced,
    Burned, like slowflaming crimson fires.
From shadowed grots of arches interlaced,
    And topped with frostlike spires.

And underneath freshcarved in cedarwood,
    Somewhat alike in form and face,
The Genii of every climate stood,
    All brothers of one race:

Angels who sway the seasons by their art,
    And mould all shapes in earth and sea;
And with great effort build the human heart
    From earliest infancy.

And in the sunpierced Oriel’s colored flame
    Immortal Michael Angelo
Looked down, bold Luther, largebrowed Verulam,
    The king of those who know.¹

Cervantes, the bright face of Calderon,
    Robed David touching holy strings,
The Halicarnasseän, and alone,
    Alfred the flower of kings.

Isaïah with fierce Ezekiel,
    Plato, Petrarca, Livy, and Raphaël,
Swarth Moses by the Coptic sea,
    And eastern Confutzee:²

As some rich tropic mountain, that infolds
    All change, from flats of scattered palms
Sloping thro’ five great zones of climate, holds
    His head in snows and calms—

Full of her own delight and nothing else,
    My vainglorious, gorgeous soul
Sat throned between the shining oriels,
    In pomp beyond control;

With piles of flavorous fruits in basket-twine
    Of gold, upheapèd, crushing down
Muskscented blooms — all taste — grape, gourd or pine—
    In bunch, or singlegrown:

Our growths, and such as brooding Indian heats
    Make out of crimson blossoms deep,
Ambrosial pulps and juices, sweets from sweets
    Sunchanged, when seawinds sleep.

With graceful chalices of curious wine.
    Wonders of art—and costly jars.
And bossèd salvers. Ere young night divine
    Crowned dying day with stars,

Making sweet close of his delicious toils,
    She lit white streams of dazzling gas,
And soft and fragrant flames of precious oils
    In moons of purple glass

Ranged on the fretted woodwork to the ground.
    Thus her intense untold delight,
In deep or vivid color, smell and sound.
    Was flattered day and night.³