Utopia such, and Plato’s isle that lay

Westward of Gades and the Great Sea’s gate.

Dreams are they all, which yet have helped to make

That underneath fair polities we dwell,

Though marred in part by envy, faction, hate—

Dreams which are dear, dear England, for thy sake,

Who art indeed that sea-girt citadel,

And nearest image of that perfect state.

{39}

{39}

THE ISLAND OF MADEIRA.

Though never axe until a later day

Though

Assailed thy forests’ huge antiquity,

Yet elder Fame had many tales of thee—

Whether Phœnician shipman far astray

Had brought uncertain notices away

Of islands dreaming in the middle sea;

Or that man’s heart, which struggles to be free

From the old worn-out world, had never stay

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