Is spent upon the desert shore;—­behind,
Old men and women foully disarrayed, 165
Shake their gray hairs in the insulting wind,

And follow in the dance, with limbs decayed,
Seeking to reach the light which leaves them still
Farther behind and deeper in the shade.

But not the less with impotence of will 170
They wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose
Round them and round each other, and fulfil

Their work, and in the dust from whence they rose
Sink, and corruption veils them as they lie,
And past in these performs what ... in those. 175

Struck to the heart by this sad pageantry,
Half to myself I said—­’And what is this? 
Whose shape is that within the car?  And why—­’

I would have added—­’is all here amiss?—­’
But a voice answered—­’Life!’—­I turned, and knew 180
(O Heaven, have mercy on such wretchedness!)

That what I thought was an old root which grew
To strange distortion out of the hill side,
Was indeed one of those deluded crew,

And that the grass, which methought hung so wide 185
And white, was but his thin discoloured hair,
And that the holes he vainly sought to hide,

Were or had been eyes:—­’If thou canst forbear
To join the dance, which I had well forborne,’
Said the grim Feature, of my thought aware, 190

’I will unfold that which to this deep scorn
Led me and my companions, and relate
The progress of the pageant since the morn;

’If thirst of knowledge shall not then abate,
Follow it thou even to the night, but I 195
Am weary.’—­Then like one who with the weight

Of his own words is staggered, wearily
He paused; and ere he could resume, I cried: 
’First, who art thou?’—­’Before thy memory,

’I feared, loved, hated, suffered, did and died, 200
And if the spark with which Heaven lit my spirit
Had been with purer nutriment supplied,

’Corruption would not now thus much inherit
Of what was once Rousseau,—­nor this disguise
Stain that which ought to have disdained to wear it; 205

’If I have been extinguished, yet there rise
A thousand beacons from the spark I bore’—­
’And who are those chained to the car?’—­’The wise,

’The great, the unforgotten,—­they who wore
Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light, 210
Signs of thought’s empire over thought—­their lore

’Taught them not this, to know themselves; their might
Could not repress the mystery within,
And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night

’Caught them ere evening.’—­’Who is he with chin 215
Upon his breast, and hands crossed on his chain?’—­
’The child of a fierce hour; he sought to win