26. 
All day the wizard lady sate aloof,
Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity, 250
Under the cavern’s fountain-lighted roof;
Or broidering the pictured poesy
Of some high tale upon her growing woof,
Which the sweet splendour of her smiles could dye
In hues outshining heaven—­and ever she 255
Added some grace to the wrought poesy.

27. 
While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece
Of sandal wood, rare gums, and cinnamon;
Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is—­
Each flame of it is as a precious stone 260
Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this
Belongs to each and all who gaze upon. 
The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand
She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand.

28. 
This lady never slept, but lay in trance 265
All night within the fountain—­as in sleep. 
Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty’s glance;
Through the green splendour of the water deep
She saw the constellations reel and dance
Like fire-flies—­and withal did ever keep 270
The tenour of her contemplations calm,
With open eyes, closed feet, and folded palm.

29. 
And when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended
From the white pinnacles of that cold hill,
She passed at dewfall to a space extended, 275
Where in a lawn of flowering asphodel
Amid a wood of pines and cedars blended,
There yawned an inextinguishable well
Of crimson fire—­full even to the brim,
And overflowing all the margin trim. 280

30. 
Within the which she lay when the fierce war
Of wintry winds shook that innocuous liquor
In many a mimic moon and bearded star
O’er woods and lawns;—­the serpent heard it flicker
In sleep, and dreaming still, he crept afar—­ 285
And when the windless snow descended thicker
Than autumn leaves, she watched it as it came
Melt on the surface of the level flame.

31. 
She had a boat, which some say Vulcan wrought
For Venus, as the chariot of her star; 290
But it was found too feeble to be fraught
With all the ardours in that sphere which are,
And so she sold it, and Apollo bought
And gave it to this daughter:  from a car
Changed to the fairest and the lightest boat 295
Which ever upon mortal stream did float.

32. 
And others say, that, when but three hours old,
The first-born Love out of his cradle lept,
And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold,
And like a horticultural adept, 300
Stole a strange seed, and wrapped it up in mould,
And sowed it in his mother’s star, and kept
Watering it all the summer with sweet dew,
And with his wings fanning it as it grew.