24. 
The sense of day and night, of false and true, 1315
Was dead within me.  Yet two visions burst
That darkness—­one, as since that hour I knew,
Was not a phantom of the realms accursed,
Where then my spirit dwelt—­but of the first
I know not yet, was it a dream or no. 1320
But both, though not distincter, were immersed
In hues which, when through memory’s waste they flow,
Make their divided streams more bright and rapid now.

25. 
Methought that grate was lifted, and the seven
Who brought me thither four stiff corpses bare, 1325
And from the frieze to the four winds of Heaven
Hung them on high by the entangled hair;
Swarthy were three—­the fourth was very fair;
As they retired, the golden moon upsprung,
And eagerly, out in the giddy air, 1330
Leaning that I might eat, I stretched and clung
Over the shapeless depth in which those corpses hung.

26. 
A woman’s shape, now lank and cold and blue,
The dwelling of the many-coloured worm,
Hung there; the white and hollow cheek I drew 1335
To my dry lips—­what radiance did inform
Those horny eyes? whose was that withered form? 
Alas, alas! it seemed that Cythna’s ghost
Laughed in those looks, and that the flesh was warm
Within my teeth!—­a whirlwind keen as frost 1340
Then in its sinking gulfs my sickening spirit tossed.

27. 
Then seemed it that a tameless hurricane
Arose, and bore me in its dark career
Beyond the sun, beyond the stars that wane
On the verge of formless space—­it languished there, 1345
And dying, left a silence lone and drear,
More horrible than famine:—­in the deep
The shape of an old man did then appear,
Stately and beautiful; that dreadful sleep
His heavenly smiles dispersed, and I could wake and weep. 1350

28. 
And, when the blinding tears had fallen, I saw
That column, and those corpses, and the moon,
And felt the poisonous tooth of hunger gnaw
My vitals, I rejoiced, as if the boon
Of senseless death would be accorded soon;—­ 1355
When from that stony gloom a voice arose,
Solemn and sweet as when low winds attune
The midnight pines; the grate did then unclose,
And on that reverend form the moonlight did repose.

29. 
He struck my chains, and gently spake and smiled; 1360
As they were loosened by that Hermit old,
Mine eyes were of their madness half beguiled,
To answer those kind looks; he did enfold
His giant arms around me, to uphold
My wretched frame; my scorched limbs he wound 1365
In linen moist and balmy, and as cold
As dew to drooping leaves;—­the chain, with sound
Like earthquake, through the chasm of that steep stair did bound,