All ardent lovers and all sages prize, —As ripening years incline upon their brows— The mild and mighty cats—pride of the house— That like unto them are indolent, stern and wise. The friends of Learning and of Ecstasy, They search for silence and the horrors of gloom; The devil had used them for his steeds of Doom, Could he alone have bent their pride to slavery. When musing, they display those outlines chaste, Of the great sphinxes—stretched o'er the sandy waste, That seem to slumber deep in a dream without end: From out their loins a fountainous furnace flies, And grains of sparkling gold, as fine as sand, Bestar the mystic pupils of their eyes.