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 To more immediate objects, and control Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart Its eloquent proportions, and unroll[pq] In mighty graduations, part by part, The Glory which at once upon thee did not dart,