| |
| MUCH have I travelled in the realms of gold, | |
| And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; | |
| Round many western islands have I been, | |
| Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. | |
| Oft of one wide expanse had I been told | 5 |
| That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne; | |
| Yet did I never breathe its pure serene | |
| Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: | |
| Then felt I like some watcher of the skies, | |
| When a new planet swims into his ken; | 10 |
| Or like stout Cortes when with eagle eyes | |
| He stared 1 at the Pacific—and all his men | |
| Looked at each other with a wild surmise— | |
| Silent, upon a peak in Darien. |
No comments:
Post a Comment