And if the outside view is impressive, that which greets us when we enter is absolutely overpowering in its majesty. The sense of space and repose; the up-running lines of the shafting catching the eye whithersoever it turns, and leading it up to the myriad-celled spans of the vault; the subdued light through the pictured windows staining the venerable masonry; the great organ, upborne by the rich oaken screen, dominating the whole vista, combine to form, as has been well said, "a _Sursum Corda_ done into stone," uplifting indeed to heart and sense alike. And when to this feast of visual harmony is added the feast of aural harmony, when the clear and mellow voices of the Choir blend with the majestic tones of the organ, "And thunder-music, rolling, shakes The prophets blazoned on the panes," we can understand how the inspiration of the scene has thrilled poet after poet, not Tennyson only, as above quoted, but Wordsworth, and even Milton, Puritan as he was, yet more. To the former King's College Chapel suggested one of the most exquisite of his sonnets: "Tax not the Royal Saint with vain expense, With ill-matched aims the architect, who planned, Albeit labouring for a scanty band Of white-robed scholars only, this immense And glorious work of fine intelligence. 'Give all thou canst! High Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely calculated less and more.' So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof, Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells, Where light and shade repose, where Music dwells, Lingering and wandering on as loth to die; Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality." And Milton, when he came under the spell of this most glorious sanctuary, forwent all his conscientious objections to the Laudian revival of ornate services, "the scrannel pipes of wretched straw," and all the rest of his denunciations, and was, in spite of himself, carried away into forgetfulness of all save the glory and the beauty around him. Hear him in "Il Penseroso": "But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow To the full-voiced choir below, In Service high and Anthem clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies And bring all Heaven before mine eyes." [Illustration: _Clare College from King's._]