But lo! the Dome--the vast and wondrous Dome,[pj][520] To which Diana's marvel was a cell-- Christ's mighty shrine above His martyr's tomb![pk] I have beheld the Ephesian's miracle--[521] Its columns strew the wilderness, and dwell The hyæna and the jackal in their shade;[522] I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell[pl] Their glittering mass i' the Sun, and have surveyed[pm] Its sanctuary the while the usurping Moslem prayed;[523] CLIV. But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Standest alone--with nothing like to thee-- Worthiest of God, the Holy and the True! Since Zion's desolation, when that He Forsook his former city, what could be, Of earthly structures, in His honour piled, Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty-- Power--Glory--Strength--and Beauty all are aisled In this eternal Ark of worship undefiled. CLV. Enter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not; And why? it is not lessened--but thy mind, Expanded by the Genius of the spot, Has grown colossal, and can only find A fit[524] abode wherein appear enshrined Thy hopes of Immortality--and thou Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined See thy God face to face, as thou dost now His Holy of Holies--nor be blasted by his brow.[pn] CLVI. Thou movest--but increasing with the advance,[525] Like climbing some great Alp, which still doth rise, Deceived by its gigantic elegance-- Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonize--[po] All musical in its immensities; Rich marbles, richer painting--shrines where flame[pp] The lamps of gold--and haughty dome which vies In air with Earth's chief structures, though their frame Sits on the firm-set ground--and this the clouds must claim. CLVII. Thou seest not all--but piecemeal thou must break, To separate contemplation, the great whole; And as the Ocean many bays will make That ask the eye--so here condense thy soul To more immediate objects, and control Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart Its eloquent proportions, and unroll[pq] In mighty graduations, part by part, The Glory which at once upon thee did not dart, CLVIII. Not by its fault--but thine: Our outward sense[pr] Is but of gradual grasp--and as it is That what we have of feeling most intense Outstrips our faint expression; even so this Outshining and o'erwhelming edifice Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great Defies at first our Nature's littleness, Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate Our Spirits to the size of that they contemplate. CLIX.