Chapter VII

Since thou wast born, the dreamy lotus blows
Its blossomed buds no more in vales of ease;
Mnemosyne revives where Lethe flows
Past sad, lost souls; for he who beauty sees,
That moment lives forever, and the sight
Shatters the crystal chalices of dream;
While phantom faces form, and legions wan
And ghostly gather from the dark to stream
Out through the wide, star-studded gates of night,
Claiming the open portals of the dawn!