Inspiring calm and happy thoughts, like mine,
  Now thou art thus restored. This cave is thine.
  Arise! Appear!
  [A SPIRIT rises in the likeness of a winged child.
  This is my torch-bearer;
  Who let his lamp out in old time with gazing
  On eyes from which he kindled it anew
  With love, which is as fire, sweet daughter mine,
  For such is that within thine own. Run, wayward,
  And guide this company beyond the peak
  Of Bacchic Nysa, Mænad-haunted mountain,
  And beyond Indus and its tribute rivers,
  Trampling the torrent streams and glassy lakes
  With feet unwet, unwearied, undelaying,
  And up the green ravine, across the vale,
  Beside the windless and crystalline pool,
  Where ever lies, on unerasing waves,
  The image of a temple, built above,
  Distinct with column, arch, and architrave,
  And palm-like capital, and overwrought,
  And populous most with living imagery,
  Praxitelean shapes, whose marble smiles
  Fill the hushed air with everlasting love.
  It is deserted now, but once it bore