IV.

All books grow homilies by time; they are Temples, at once, and Landmarks. In them, we Who _but_ for them, upon that inch of ground We call "THE PRESENT," from the cell could see No daylight trembling on the dungeon bar; Turn, as we list, the globe's great axle round, Traverse all space, and number every star, And feel the Near less household than the Far! There is no Past, so long as Books shall live! A disinterr'd Pompeii wakes again For him who seeks yon well; lost cities give Up their untarnish'd wonders, and the reign Of Jove revives and Saturn:--At our will Rise dome and tower on Delphi's sacred hill; Bloom Cimon's trees in Academe;[D]--along Leucadia's headland sighs the Lesbian's song; With Egypt's Queen once more we sail the Nile, And learn how worlds are barter'd for a smile:-- Rise up, ye walls, with gardens blooming o'er, Ope but that page--lo, Babylon once more!