XX

A Fair-going world. Imperial England draws

The flowing ends of the earth, from Fez, Canton,

      Delhi and Stockholm, Athens and Madrid,

The Russias and the vast Americas,

      As a queen gathers in her robes amid

Her golden cincture,—isles, peninsulas,

      Capes, continents, far inland countries hid

By jaspar sands and hills of chrysopras,

      All trailing in their splendours through the door

Of the new Crystal Palace. Every nation,

      To every other nation, strange of yore,

Shall face to face give civic salutation,

      And hold up in a proud right hand before

That congress, the best work which she could fashion

      By her best means—"These corals, will you please

To match against your oaks? They grow as fast

      Within my wilderness of purple seas."—

"This diamond stared upon me as I passed

      (As a live god's eye from a marble frieze)

Along a dark of diamonds. Is it classed?"—

      "I wove these stuffs so subtly, that the gold

Swims to the surface of the silk, like cream,

      And curdles to fair patterns. Ye behold!"—

"These delicated muslins rather seem

      Than be, you think? Nay, touch them and be bold,

Though such veiled Chakhi's face in Hafiz' dream."—

      "These carpets—you walk slow on them like kings,

Inaudible like spirits, while your foot

      Dips deep in velvet roses and such things."—

"Even Apollonius might commend this flute.

      The music, winding through the stops, upsprings

To make the player very rich. Compute."—

      "Here's goblet-glass, to take in with your wine

The very sun its grapes were ripened under.

      Drink light and juice together, and each fine."—

"This model of a steam-ship moves your wonder?

      You should behold it crushing down the brine,

Like a blind Jove who feels his way with thunder."—

      "Here's sculpture! Ah, we live too! Why not throw

Our life into our marbles! Art has place

      For other artists after Angelo."—

"I tried to paint out here a natural face—

      For nature includes Raffael, as we know,

Not Raffael nature. Will it help my case?"—

      "Methinks you will not match this steel of ours!"—

"Nor you this porcelain! One might think the clay

      Retained in it the larvæ of the flowers,

They bud so, round the cup, the old spring way."—

      "Nor you these carven woods, where birds in bowers,

With twisting snakes and climbing cupids, play."