Within its precincts! Isles and seas have shed
Their gorgeous treasures there, around th’ imperial dead.
LXXIV.
’Tis a proud vision—that most regal pile
Of ancient days! The lamps are streaming bright
From its rich altar, down each pillar’d aisle,
Whose vista fades in dimness; but the sight
Is lost in splendours, as the wavering light
Develops on those walls the thousand dyes
Of the vein’d marbles, which array their height,