II. IT IS MY CAABA. YES, 'tis my Càabà—a shrine below, To those I learn within this holy fane of Thought. III. HERE HOMER TEACHES. HERE blind old Homer teaches lofty song; Where Satan on the fiery billow lies, Unlocks the portals of the human heart. IV. TO THE GENIUS OF LITERATURE. [A STATUETTE ON THE MANTEL IN MY STUDY.] THY little foot uplifted on thy knee, Ne'er deigning round my study-room to look, Yet o'er my heart thou hold'st a mighty sway, Till aspiration lifts my soul above, And I am drunk in intellectual joy— 1 My charming, beautiful, mute marble boy. V. TO THE GENIUS OF ART. [A STATUETTE ON THE MANTEL.] THOU art a beam from God-the brightest ray That heaven hath earthward sent to cheer the soul And animate it in its house of clay, With dreams of light, and life, and glory's goal. Here, mutely worshipping, I gaze on thee, Till nascent haloes dawn around thy brow, And from the portals of eternity, The laurelled dead, returning, round thee bow. VI. TO HEBE. [A STATUETTE ON THE BOOKCASE.] GODDESS of Beauty, and eternal youth! Lovely ideal! Beatific beam! For which Canova made a house of clay ! No more thou art to me a Poet's dream. |