Amid the coarser needs of earth All shapes of brightness, what are they But wanderers, exiled from their birth, Or pledges of a happier day? Yea, what is Beauty, judged aright, But some surpassing, transient gleam; Some smile from heaven, in waves of light, Rippling o'er life's distempered dream? Or broken memories of that bliss Which rushed through first-born Nature's blood When He who ever was, and is, Looked down, and saw that all was good? {52} X. Alas! not only loveliest eyes, And brows with lordliest lustre bright, But Nature's self--her woods and skies-- The credulous heart can cheat or blight. And why? Because the sin of man Twixt Fair and Good has made divorce; And stained, since Evil first began, That stream so heavenly at its source. O perishable vales and groves! Your master was not made for you; Ye are but creatures: human loves Are to the great Creator due. And yet, through Nature's symbols dim, There are with keener sight that pierce The outward husk, and reach to Him Whose garment is the universe. For this to earth the Saviour came In flesh; in part for this He died; That man might have, in soul and frame, No faculty unsanctified. That Fancy's self--so prompt to lead Through paths disastrous or defiled-- Upon the Tree of Life might feed; And Sense with Soul be reconciled. {53} _Idolatria._ XI. The fancy of an age gone by, When Fancy's self to earth declined, Still thirsting for Divinity, Yet still, through sense, to Godhead blind, Poor mimic of that Truth of old, The patriarchs' hope--a faith revealed-- Compressed its God in mortal mould, The prisoner of Creation's field. Nature and Nature's Lord were one! Then countless gods from cloud and stream Glanced forth; from sea, and moon, and sun: So ran the pantheistic dream. And thus the All-Holy, thus the All-True, The One Supreme, the Good, the Just, Like mist was scattered, lost like dew, And vanished in the wayside dust. {54} Mary! through thee the idols fell: When He the nations longed for [Footnote 1] came-- True God yet Man--with man to dwell, The phantoms hid their heads for shame. [Footnote 1: "The Desire of the Nations."] His place or thine removed, ere long The bards would push the sects aside; And lifted by the might of song Olympus stand re-edified. {55} _Tota Pulchra._ XII. A broken gleam on wave and flower-- A music that in utterance dies-- O Poets, and O Men! what more Is all that Beauty which ye prize? And ah! how oft Corruption works Through that brief Beauty's force or wile! How oft a gloom eternal lurks Beneath an evanescent smile! But thou, serene and smiling light Of every grace redeemed from Sense, In thee all harmonies unite That charm a pure Intelligence.