And lifted all Westminster in the sling from my balloon
(Swung over the Atlantic,
They peered from windows, frantic),
When, eagle-back, I’d scanned the pole in broad, eternal noon,
“In Queen Mab’s chariot I ventured on the sea.
’T was like a mammoth hazelnut, with matchless orrery
A-sparkle on its ceiling,
With planet systems wheeling
And giddy comets sizzling all about the head o’ me.
“The nine bulls drew it, as stout as those of Crete,