VII.

Aged, forsaken--to the crowd below (As to the Priest[F] who chronicled the time), "_One Milton!_--_The blind Teacher_"--be it so. Neglect and ruin make but more sublime The last lone column which survives the dearth Of a lost city,--when it lifts on high. Above the waste and solitude of earth Its front: and soars, the Neighbour of the Sky.

To him a Voice floats down from every star; An Angel bends from every cloud that rolls; Life has no mystery from our sight more far Than the still joy in solemn Poet-souls. As some vast river, fresh'ning lands unknown Where never yet a human footstep trod, Leave the grand Song to flow majestic on And hymn delight, from all its waves, to God.