Thought

What master-voice shall from the dim profound Of Thought evoke its fearful, mighty Powers?-- Those dread enchanters, whose terrific call May never be gainsaid; whose wondrous thrall Alone the Infinite, the Uncreate, may bound; In whose dark presence e'en the Reason cowers, Lost in their mystery, e'en while her slaves, Doing her proud behests. Ay, who to sense Shall bring them forth?--those subtile Powers that wear No shape their own, yet to the mind dispense All shapes that be. Or who in deepest graves Seal down the crime which they shall not uptear?-- Those fierce avengers, whom the murdered dead Shall hear, and follow to the murderer's bed.