13.  Which when the lady knew, she took her spindle 145 And twined three threads of fleecy mist, and three Long lines of light, such as the dawn may kindle The clouds and waves and mountains with; and she As many star-beams, ere their lamps could dwindle In the belated moon, wound skilfully; 150 And with these threads a subtle veil she wove—­ A shadow for the splendour of her love.

14.  The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling Were stored with magic treasures—­sounds of air, Which had the power all spirits of compelling, 155 Folded in cells of crystal silence there; Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling Will never die—­yet ere we are aware, The feeling and the sound are fled and gone, And the regret they leave remains alone. 160

15.  And there lay Visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, Each in its thin sheath, like a chrysalis, Some eager to burst forth, some weak and faint With the soft burthen of intensest bliss.  It was its work to bear to many a saint 165 Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, Even Love’s:—­and others white, green, gray, and black, And of all shapes—­and each was at her beck.

16.  And odours in a kind of aviary Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, 170 Clipped in a floating net, a love-sick Fairy Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept; As bats at the wired window of a dairy, They beat their vans; and each was an adept, When loosed and missioned, making wings of winds, 175 To stir sweet thoughts or sad, in destined minds.

17.  And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep, And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams—­or if eyes needs must weep, 180 Could make their tears all wonder and delight, She in her crystal vials did closely keep:  If men could drink of those clear vials, ’tis said The living were not envied of the dead.

18.  Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, 185 The works of some Saturnian Archimage, Which taught the expiations at whose price Men from the Gods might win that happy age Too lightly lost, redeeming native vice; And which might quench the Earth-consuming rage 190 Of gold and blood—­till men should live and move Harmonious as the sacred stars above;

19.  And how all things that seem untameable, Not to be checked and not to be confined, Obey the spells of Wisdom’s wizard skill; 195 Time, earth, and fire—­the ocean and the wind, And all their shapes—­and man’s imperial will; And other scrolls whose writings did unbind The inmost lore of Love—­let the profane Tremble to ask what secrets they contain.