49. 
It was a Temple, such as mortal hand
Has never built, nor ecstasy, nor dream 560
Reared in the cities of enchanted land: 
’Twas likest Heaven, ere yet day’s purple stream
Ebbs o’er the western forest, while the gleam
Of the unrisen moon among the clouds
Is gathering—­when with many a golden beam 565
The thronging constellations rush in crowds,
Paving with fire the sky and the marmoreal floods.

50. 
Like what may be conceived of this vast dome,
When from the depths which thought can seldom pierce
Genius beholds it rise, his native home, 570
Girt by the deserts of the Universe;
Yet, nor in painting’s light, or mightier verse,
Or sculpture’s marble language, can invest
That shape to mortal sense—­such glooms immerse
That incommunicable sight, and rest 575
Upon the labouring brain and overburdened breast.

51. 
Winding among the lawny islands fair,
Whose blosmy forests starred the shadowy deep,
The wingless boat paused where an ivory stair
Its fretwork in the crystal sea did steep, 580
Encircling that vast Fane’s aerial heap: 
We disembarked, and through a portal wide
We passed—­whose roof of moonstone carved, did keep
A glimmering o’er the forms on every side,
Sculptures like life and thought, immovable, deep-eyed. 585

52. 
We came to a vast hall, whose glorious roof
Was diamond, which had drunk the lightning’s sheen
In darkness, and now poured it through the woof
Of spell-inwoven clouds hung there to screen
Its blinding splendour—­through such veil was seen 590
That work of subtlest power, divine and rare;
Orb above orb, with starry shapes between,
And horned moons, and meteors strange and fair,
On night-black columns poised—­one hollow hemisphere!

53. 
Ten thousand columns in that quivering light 595
Distinct—­between whose shafts wound far away
The long and labyrinthine aisles—­more bright
With their own radiance than the Heaven of Day;
And on the jasper walls around, there lay
Paintings, the poesy of mightiest thought, 600
Which did the Spirit’s history display;
A tale of passionate change, divinely taught,
Which, in their winged dance, unconscious Genii wrought.

54. 
Beneath, there sate on many a sapphire throne,
The Great, who had departed from mankind, 605
A mighty Senate;—­some, whose white hair shone
Like mountain snow, mild, beautiful, and blind;
Some, female forms, whose gestures beamed with mind;
And ardent youths, and children bright and fair;
And some had lyres whose strings were intertwined 610
With pale and clinging flames, which ever there
Waked faint yet thrilling sounds that pierced the crystal air.