For there, not dimly as here, the Stars,
But globèd and azure and crimson tinct,
Climb up the windless wastes of snow,
Gold-footed, or thro’ the long-drawn bars
Of mountain mist, with eyes unblink’d
And scorn, gaze down on the World below;
Or high on the topmost peak and end
Of ranges stand with sudden blaze,
Like Angels born in spontaneous birth;
Or wrap themselves in flame and descend