Not Aladdin magian
Ever such a work began
Not the wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see
Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle
In the passion of his toil
When he saw the churches seven
Golden aisl'd, built up in heaven
Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder
As I stood its roofing under
Lo! I saw one sleeping there
On the marble cold and bare
While the surges wash'd his feet
And his garments white did beat
Drench'd about the sombre rocks
On his neck his well-grown locks
Lifted dry above the main
Were upon the curl again
"What is this? and what art thou?"
Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow
"What art thou? and what is this?"
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss
The spirit's hand, to wake his eyes
Up he started in a trice
"I am Lycidas," said he
"Fam'd in funeral minstrely!
This was architectur'd thus
By the great Oceanus!
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow organs all the day
Here by turns his dolphins all
Finny palmers great and small
Come to pay devotion due
Each a mouth of pearls must strew
Many a mortal of these days
Dares to pass our sacred ways
Dares to touch audaciously
This Cathedral of the Sea!
I have been the pontiff-priest
Where the waters never rest
Where a fledgy sea-bird choir
Soars for ever; holy fire
I have hid from mortal man
Proteus is my Sacristan
But the dulled eye of mortal
Hath pass'd beyond the rocky portal
So for ever will I leave
Such a taint, and soon unweave
All the magic of the place."
So saying, with a Spirit's glance
He dived!