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In the
greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace --
Radiant palace
-- reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion
--
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a
pinion
Over fabric half so fair.
Banners
yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float
and flow,
(This -- all this -- was in the olden
Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that
dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts
plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two
luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne
where, sitting
(Porphyrogene)
In state his
glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was
seen.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came
flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling
evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
But evil
things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the
monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! -- for
never sorrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed
and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of
the old time entombed.
And travellers, now,
within that valley,
Through the red-litten
windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, lie a ghastly
rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous
throng rush out forever
And laugh -- but smile no
more.
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