So vastly spread, and graven high
With labyrinthine blazonry;
Rapt to a whisper, I behold
Art so sublime and manifold.
Lo! half in light, and half in gloom,
Sleeps at the base an ancient tomb,
Whose prickly-blooming niches bear
All forms of rapture and despair.
Above, in solemn ’scutcheons hung,
Are legends in an unknown tongue—