I’ve thought, at gentle and ungentle hour,

Of many an act and giant shape of power;

Of the old kings with high exacting looks

Sceptered and globed; of eagles on their rocks

With straining feet, and that fierce mouth and drear,

Answering the strain with downward drag austere;

Of the rich-headed lion, whose huge frown,

All his great nature, gathering, seems to crown;

Then of cathedral with its priestly height,