Bright glowed the canvas, or with chastened light
Of the wan moon was tinted; features mild
With hopes angelic,--glorious visions wild,
Fixed by Eternal Art, were there; the sight
Might rest on marble forms, perfect in grace
Symmetric, nymph, or hero half divine,
Or the calm hush of slumber infantine;--
Nature had sent her stores to fill the place:
All dazzling plumes on bird or moth bestowed,
Clear spiry crystals, grots of massive spar:--
So that it seemed all choicest things that are
Within those precincts had their blest abode;
And he who through these halls unknowing went,
Might ask for what high presence all was meant?

Nor long should he inquire, ere he should meet
Not sweeping trains of pomp and courtly pride,
Illustrious visitant, or fêted bride,
Or whispering fall of beauty's dainty feet,
But the hard tramp of rustic, and the gaze
Of the pale--faced mechanic, and the eye
Unused before to stretch its aim so high,
Lit with the promise of aspiring days.
Prosper, such work of love; and may the halls
Which, in glad zeal to feed the nation's heart,
Have lacked awhile their gorgeous stores of art,
Teem with pure joy,--the while their envied walls
Shine with adornments richer and more rare,--
For the ten thousands who their beauties share.