Thus the one Beauty of the world entire, 650 The universal Venus, far beyond The keenest effort of created eyes, And their most wide horizon, dwells enthroned In ancient silence. At her footstool stands An altar burning with eternal fire Unsullied, unconsumed. Here every hour, Here every moment, in their turns arrive Her offspring; an innumerable band Of sisters, comely all! but differing far In age, in stature, and expressive mien, 660 More than bright Helen from her new-born babe. To this maternal shrine in turns they come, Each with her sacred lamp; that from the source Of living flame, which here immortal flows, Their portions of its lustre they may draw For days, or months, or years; for ages, some; As their great parent's discipline requires. Then to their several mansions they depart, In stars, in planets, through the unknown shores Of yon ethereal ocean. Who can tell, 670 Even on the surface of this rolling earth, How many make abode? The fields, the groves, The winding rivers and the azure main, Are render'd solemn by their frequent feet, Their rites sublime. There each her destined home Informs with that pure radiance from the skies Brought down, and shines throughout her little sphere, Exulting. Straight, as travellers by night Turn toward a distant flame, so some fit eye, Among the various tenants of the scene, 680 Discerns the heaven-born phantom seated there, And owns her charms. Hence the wide universe, Through all the seasons of revolving worlds, Bears witness with its people, gods and men, To Beauty's blissful power, and with the voice Of grateful admiration still resounds: That voice, to which is Beauty's frame divine As is the cunning of the master's hand To the sweet accent of the well-tuned lyre.