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Deserted of all living things, an air
Of mystery dim, as in cathedral aisles, Pervaded all, and ghostly shadows fell
Athwart the bolts of light from day's bright smiles That shot in long and golden lances through
The high and latticed transoms of the doors. Then day bowed low before the sable plume
Of night that laid her moonbeams on the floors, And lent the shimmering light a softer hue.
The statues stood again, upright, of gods, . Of satyrs and of nymphs, within the place, And soon a babel 'rose of ancient tongues ;
A revel of a Pantheistic race. Within an alcove, near to me, I heard
A gross old bacchant tell, with laugh and sigh, A sweet young naiad, of a time one night
When Horace with his Lesbia, drew nigh To him, and in his shadow kissed the girl,
And wound his arm about her waist, and held Her head upon his breast, while breathing low
The music of his poesy that welled Like silver fount, and pure as Oman pearl.
" Think thou of that," he said, " and yet, perforce,