XIV.

All divine artists, humble, filial,

Turn therefore unto Thee, the poet's sun;

First-born of God's creation, only done

When from Thee, centre-form, the veil did fall,

And Thou, symbol of all, heart, coronal,

The highest Life with noblest Form made one,

To do thy Father's bidding hadst begun;

The living germ in this strange planet-ball,

Even as thy form in mind of striving saint.

So, as the one Ideal, beyond taint,

Thy radiance unto all some shade doth yield,

In every splendour shadowy revealed:

But when, by word or hand, Thee one would paint,

Power falls down straightway, speechless, dim-eyed, faint.