Would read this riddle of the Sphynx;
And with oracular voice and air
Declare why they were summoned there—
Why called from worlds that felt no flood
To tremble in that ancient wood—
That wood which from the birth of time
Had gone on growing, through the chime
Of falling spheres,—a Druid sage,
Unwearied with life’s pilgrimage.
While standing thus in mute amaze,