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But the strangest part of it was that the words to which the music shaped itself in his mind were not the words of any song he knew, but that expression of human nature which contains in itself some of the grandest harmony in the language: "These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve; And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a wreck behind.
"The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind." In the afternoon we returned to Bristol, and I spent the greater part of the next day in examining the interior of Redcliffe Church.
It is curious to observe in the Clouds of Aristophanes that while the main object of the poet is to ridicule Socrates, and through him to expose what he considers the corrupt state of education in Athens, he does not disdain to mingle with his low buffoonery the loftiest flights of the imagination reminding us of the not unlike anomaly of Shakspeare's sublime simile of the "cloud-capp'd towers," in the Tempest.
Whose thoughts proud Science never taught to stray, Far as the Statesman's walk or Patriot-way; Yet simple Nature to his hopes had given Out of a cloud-capp'd head a humbler heaven; Some untam'd World in depths of wood embraced Some happier Island in the wat'ry-waste And where admitted to that equal sky, His faithful Dogs should bear him company.
The Fair was like him both in its moral broadness and its material all-inclusiveness. In his absence no poet has risen "to the height of this great argument," so that now the insubstantial pageant is faded, now that "the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples," have dissolved, "like the baseless fabric of a vision," they have left not a rack of real literature behind.
"The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind." In the same passage his note immediately changes to the soft vox humana of "We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep." His Influence on Thought.
Only he can cry out against Jerusalem who, when he beholds the city, weeps over it as he sees its crime and shame and notes the tempest gathering to burst over its "cloud-capp'd towers, its solemn temples, its airy palaces." The preacher, like his Lord, must be "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." It must be true of him that for "the hurt of the daughter of My people was He stricken."
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