Ode to the Greek Slave

O Greek! by more than Moslem fetters thrall'd!
O marble prison of a radiant thought,
Where life is half recall'd,
And beauty dwells, created, not enwrought —
Why hauntest thou my dreams, enrobed in light,
And atmosphered with purity, wherein
Mine own soul is transfigured, and grows bright,
As though an angel smiled away its sin?
O chastity of Art!
Behold! this maiden shape makes solitude
Of all the busy mart:
Beneath her soul's immeasurable woe,
All sensuous vision lies subdued,
And from her veiled eyes the flow
Of tears, is inward turned upon her heart;
While on the prisoning lips
Her eloquent spirit swoons,
And from the lustrous brow's eclipse
Falls patient glory, as from clouded moons!
Severe in vestal grace, yet warm
And flexile with the delicate glow of youth,
She stands, the sweet embodiment of Truth;
Her pure thoughts clustering around her form,
Like seraph garments, whiter than the snows
Which the wild sea upthrows.
O Genius! thou canst chain
Not marble only, but the human soul,
And melt the heart with soft control,
And wake such reverence in the brain,
That man may be forgiven,
If in the ancient days he dwelt
Idolatrous with sculptured life, and knelt
To' Beauty more than Heaven!
Genius is worship! for its works adore
The Infinite Source of all their glorious thought,
So blessed Art, like Nature, is o'erfraught
With such a wondrous store
Of hallowed influence, that we who gaze'
Aright on her creations, haply pray and praise!
Go, then, fair Slave! and in thy fetters teach
What Heaven inspired and Genius hath designed—
Be thou Evangel of true Art, and preach
The freedom of the mind!