Lead me, I pray, where never shallop’s keel
Brake the dull ripples throbbing to their caves:
Where the mailed glacier with his armed heel
Spurs the resisting waves!
Paint me, I pray, the phantom hosts that hold
Celestial tourneys when the midnight calls;
On airy steeds, with lances bright and bold,
Storming her ancient halls.
Yet, while I look, the magic picture fades;
Melts the bright tracery from the frosted pane;