L.

We gaze and turn away, and know not where, Dazzled and drunk with Beauty,[428] till the heart Reels with its fulness; there--for ever there-- Chained to the chariot of triumphal Art, We stand as captives, and would not depart. Away!--there need no words, nor terms precise, The paltry jargon of the marble mart, Where Pedantry gulls Folly--we have eyes: Blood--pulse--and breast confirm the Dardan Shepherd's prize.