Europa’s scarf blew in an arch, unclasped, From her bare shoulder backward borne. Off inserted in 1842. Here in 1833 follows a stanza, excised in 1842:— He thro’ the streaming crystal swam, and rolled Ambrosial breaths that seemed to float In light-wreathed curls. She from the ripple cold Updrew her sandalled foot. [22] 1833. Over. [23] 1833. Not. [24] 1833. Many a. [25] The Caucasian range forms the north-west margin of the great tableland of Western Asia, and as it was the home of those races who afterwards peopled Europe and Western Asia and so became the fathers of civilisation and culture, the “Supreme Caucasian mind” is a historically correct but certainly recondite expression for the intellectual flower of the human race, for the perfection of human ability. [26] 1833. Broidered in screen and blind. In the edition of 1833 appear the following stanzas, excised in 1842:— So that my soul beholding in her pride All these, from room to room did pass; And all things that she saw, she multiplied, A many-faced glass. And, being both the sower and the seed, Remaining in herself became All that she saw, Madonna, Ganymede, Or the Asiatic dame— Still changing, as a lighthouse in the night Changeth athwart the gleaming main, From red to yellow, yellow to pale white, Then back to red again. “From change to change four times within the womb The brain is moulded,” she began, “So thro’ all phases of all thought I come Into the perfect man. “All nature widens upward: evermore The simpler essence lower lies, More complex is more perfect, owning more Discourse, more widely wise. “I take possession of men’s minds and deeds. I live in all things great and small. I dwell apart, holding no forms of creeds, But contemplating all.” Four ample courts there were, East, West, South, North, In each a squarèd lawn where from A golden-gorged dragon spouted forth The fountain’s diamond foam. All round the cool green courts there ran a row Of cloisters, branched like mighty woods, Echoing all night to that sonorous flow Of spouted fountain floods. From those four jets four currents in one swell Over the black rock streamed below In steamy folds, that, floating as they fell, Lit up a torrent bow. And round the roofs ran gilded galleries That gave large view to distant lands, Tall towns and mounds, and close beneath the skies Long lines of amber sands. Huge incense-urns along the balustrade, Hollowed of solid amethyst, Each with a different odour fuming, made The air a silver mist. Far-off ’twas wonderful to look upon Those sumptuous towers between the gleam Of that great foam-bow trembling in the sun, And the argent incense-steam; And round the terraces and round the walls, While day sank lower or rose higher, To see those rails with all their knobs and balls, Burn like a fringe of fire.