A temple, gazed upon by Phidian forms
  Of thee, and Asia, and the Earth, and me,
  And you, fair nymphs, looking the love we feel,--
  In memory of the tidings it has borne,--
  Beneath a dome fretted with graven flowers,
  Poised on twelve columns of resplendent stone,
  And open to the bright and liquid sky.
  Yoked to it by an amphisbenic snake
  The likeness of those wingèd steeds will mock
  The flight from which they find repose. Alas,
  Whither has wandered now my partial tongue
  When all remains untold which ye would hear?
  As I have said, I floated to the earth;
  It was, as it is still, the pain of bliss
  To move, to breathe, to be. I wandering went
  Among the haunts and dwellings of mankind,
  And first was disappointed not to see
  Such mighty change as I had felt within
  Expressed in outward things; but soon I looked,
  And behold, thrones were kingless, and men walked
  One with the other even as spirits do--
  None fawned, none trampled; hate, disdain, or fear,
  Self-love or self-contempt, on human brows
  No more inscribed, as o'er the gate of hell,