Monday Exposure: Fingal's Cave

Fingal's Cave on the Isle of Staffa.

Not Aladdin magian
Ever such a work began;
Not the wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see;
Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle,
In the passion of his toil,
When he saw the churches seven,
Golden aisl'd, built up in heaven,
Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder.
As I stood its roofing under
Lo! I saw one sleeping there,
On the marble cold and bare.
While the surges wash'd his feet,
And his garments white did beat.
Drench'd about the sombre rocks,
On his neck his well-grown locks,
Lifted dry above the main,
Were upon the curl again.
"What is this? and what art thou?"
Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow;
"What art thou? and what is this?"
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss
The spirit's hand, to wake his eyes;
Up he started in a trice:
"I am Lycidas," said he,
"Fam'd in funeral minstrely!
This was architectur'd thus
By the great Oceanus!--
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow organs all the day;
Here by turns his dolphins all,
Finny palmers great and small,
Come to pay devotion due--
Each a mouth of pearls must strew.
Many a mortal of these days,
Dares to pass our sacred ways,
Dares to touch audaciously
This Cathedral of the Sea! - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Staffa#sthash.C6dYdEvg.dpuf

Not Aladdin magian
Ever such a work began;
Not the wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see;
Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle,
In the passion of his toil,
When he saw the churches seven,
Golden aisl'd, built up in heaven,
Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder.
As I stood its roofing under
Lo! I saw one sleeping there,
On the marble cold and bare.
While the surges wash'd his feet,
And his garments white did beat.
Drench'd about the sombre rocks,
On his neck his well-grown locks,
Lifted dry above the main,
Were upon the curl again.
"What is this? and what art thou?"
Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow;
"What art thou? and what is this?"
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss
The spirit's hand, to wake his eyes;
Up he started in a trice:
"I am Lycidas," said he,
"Fam'd in funeral minstrely!
This was architectur'd thus
By the great Oceanus!--
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow organs all the day;
Here by turns his dolphins all,
Finny palmers great and small,
Come to pay devotion due--
Each a mouth of pearls must strew.
Many a mortal of these days,
Dares to pass our sacred ways,
Dares to touch audaciously
This Cathedral of the Sea! - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Staffa#sthash.C6dYdEvg.dpuf

Not Aladdin magian
Ever such a work began;
Not the wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see;
Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle,
In the passion of his toil,
When he saw the churches seven,
Golden aisl'd, built up in heaven,
Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder.
As I stood its roofing under
Lo! I saw one sleeping there,
On the marble cold and bare.
While the surges wash'd his feet,
And his garments white did beat.
Drench'd about the sombre rocks,
On his neck his well-grown locks,
Lifted dry above the main,
Were upon the curl again.
"What is this? and what art thou?"
Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow;
"What art thou? and what is this?"
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss
The spirit's hand, to wake his eyes;
Up he started in a trice:
"I am Lycidas," said he,
"Fam'd in funeral minstrely!
This was architectur'd thus
By the great Oceanus!--
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow organs all the day;
Here by turns his dolphins all,
Finny palmers great and small,
Come to pay devotion due--
Each a mouth of pearls must strew.
Many a mortal of these days,
Dares to pass our sacred ways,
Dares to touch audaciously
This Cathedral of the Sea! - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Staffa#sthash.C6dYdEvg.dpuf

                    NOT Aladdin magian
                    Ever such a work began;
                    Not the wizard of the Dee
                    Ever such a dream could see;
                    Not St. John, in Patmos' Isle,
                    In the passion of his toil,
                    When he saw the churches seven,
                    Golden aisl'd, built up in heaven,
                    Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder.
                                         . . .
                     " . . . This was architectur'd thus
                     By the great Oceanus! -
                     Here his mighty waters play
                     Hollow organs all the day;
                     Here by turns his dolphins all,
                     Finny palmers great and small,
                     Come to pay devotion due -
                     Each a mouth of pearls must strew.
                     Many a mortal of these days,
                     Dares to pass our sacred ways,
                     Dares to touch audaciously
                     This Cathedral of the Sea!"

                               -- Staffa, by John Keats

Interior of Fingal's Cave.

                    Thanks for the lessons of this spot, -- fit school
                    For the presumptuous thoughts that would assign
                    Mechanic laws to agency divine;
                    And, measuring heaven by earth, would overrule
                    Infinite Power. The pillared vestibule,
                    Expanding yet precise, the roof embowed,
                    Might seem designed to humble man, when proud
                    Of his best workmanship by plan and tool.
                    Down-bearing with his whole Atlantic weight
                    Of tide and tempest on that structure's base,
                    And flashing to that structure's topmost height,
                    Ocean has proved its strength, and of its grace
                    In calms is conscious, finding for his freight
                    Of softest music some responsive place.

                     -- Cave of Staffa, William Wordsworth