Читать книгу The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 05, March, 1858 - Various - Страница 5

  Is it illusion? or does there a spirit from perfecter ages,

    Here, even yet, amid loss, change, and corruption, abide?

  Does there a spirit we know not, though seek, though we find,

    comprehend not,

    Here to entice and confuse, tempt and evade us, abide?

  Lives in the exquisite grace of the column disjointed and single,

    Haunts the rude masses of brick garlanded gayly with vine,

  E'en in the turret fantastic surviving that springs from the ruin,

    E'en in the people itself? Is it illusion or not?

  Is it illusion or not that attracteth the pilgrim Transalpine,

    Brings him a dullard and dunce hither to pry and to stare?

  Is it illusion or not that allures the barbarian stranger,

    Brings him with gold to the shrine, brings him in arms to the gate?