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,