This is the giddy air, and I must spread Wide pinions to keep here; nor do I dread Or height, or depth, or width, or any chance Precipitous: I have beneath my glance 360 Those towering horses and their mournful freight. Could I thus sail, and see, and thus await Fearless for power of thought, without thine aid?-- There is a sleepy dusk, an odorous shade From some approaching wonder, and behold Those winged steeds, with snorting nostrils bold Snuff at its faint extreme, and seem to tire, Dying to embers from their native fire! There curl'd a purple mist around them; soon, It seem'd as when around the pale new moon 370 Sad Zephyr droops the clouds like weeping willow: 'Twas Sleep slow journeying with head on pillow. For the first time, since he came nigh dead born From the old womb of night, his cave forlorn Had he left more forlorn; for the first time, He felt aloof the day and morning's prime-- Because into his depth Cimmerian There came a dream, shewing how a young man, Ere a lean bat could plump its wintery skin, Would at high Jove's empyreal footstool win 380 An immortality, and how espouse Jove's daughter, and be reckon'd of his house. Now was he slumbering towards heaven's gate, That he might at the threshold one hour wait To hear the marriage melodies, and then Sink downward to his dusky cave again. His litter of smooth semilucent mist, Diversely ting'd with rose and amethyst, Puzzled those eyes that for the centre sought; And scarcely for one moment could be caught 390 His sluggish form reposing motionless. Those two on winged steeds, with all the stress Of vision search'd for him, as one would look Athwart the sallows of a river nook To catch a glance at silver throated eels,-- Or from old Skiddaw's top, when fog conceals His rugged forehead in a mantle pale, With an eye-guess towards some pleasant vale Descry a favourite hamlet faint and far.