Ebony and Crystal/The Chimaera
THE CHIMAERA
O, who will slay the last chimaera, Time?Though Love and Death have many a cunning dart—Despite of these, and close-wrought webs of Art,And Slumber, with a slow Lethean lime—
Still, still, he lives; and though thy feet attainThe lunar peaks of ice and crystal, he,Some night of agonized eternityWith brazen teeth shall gnaw thy fretted brain.
Gorged with the dust of thrones and fanes destroyed—With lidless eyes like moons of adamant,And vaulted mouth emportalling the void,
He crouches like a passive sphinx beforeSome temple gate, or, grinning, moves to grantThine entrance at the monarch's golden door.