CLVI. Thou movest, but increasing with the advance, Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonise- Rich marbles, richer painting-shrines where flame CLVII. Thou seest not all; but piecemeal thou must break, To separate contemplation, the great whole; And as the ocean many bays will make That ask the eye-so here condense thy soul Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart In mighty graduations, part by part, The glory which at once upon thee did not dart, CLVIII. Not by its fault-but thine: Our outward sense That what we have of feeling most intense Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great CLIX. Then pause, and be enlighten'd; there is more Of wonder pleased, or awe which would adore Its depth, and thence may draw the mind of man CLX. Or, turning to the Vatican, go see With an immortal's patience blending: Vain CLXI. Or view the Lord of the unerring bow, The shaft hath just been shot-the arrow bright |