XL.
The heavens in still magnificence look down
On the hush’d Bosphorus, whose ocean stream
Sleeps with its paler stars: the snowy crown
Of far Olympus,[212] in the moonlight gleam,
Towers radiantly, as when the Pagan’s dream
Throng’d it with gods, and bent th’ adoring knee;
—But that is past—and now the One Supreme
Fills not alone those haunts, but earth, air, sea,
And Time, which presses on to finish his decree.