Kindles beneath their aspect,[213] and his mien,
All fired with stormy joy, by that soft light is seen.
XLV.
Oh! wild presumption of a conqueror’s dream,
To gaze on those pure altar-fires, enshrined
In depths of blue infinitude, and deem
They shine to guide the spoiler of mankind
O’er fields of blood! But with the restless mind
It hath been ever thus! and they that weep
For worlds to conquer, o’er the bounds assign’d