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Poem by William Cowper
The Ice Palace
Less worthy of applause, though more admired, Because a novelty, the work of man, Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, The wonder of the North. No forest fell When thou wouldst build; no quarry sent its stores To enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods, And make thy marble of the glassy wave. Silently as a dream the fabric rose; No sound of hammer or of saw was there: Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Were soon conjoined, nor other cement asked Than water interfused to make them one. Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues, Illumined very side: a watery light Gleamed through the clear transparency, that seemed Another moon new risen, or meteor fallen From Heaven to Earth, of lambent flame serene. So stood the brittle prodigy: though smooth And slippery the materials, yet frostbound Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within, That royal residence might well befit, For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths Of flowers, that feared no enemy but warmth, Blushed on the panels. Mirror needed none Where all was vitreous; but in order due Convivial table and commodious seat, (What seemed at least commodious seat,) were there; Sofa and couch and high-built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all, And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream, And soon to slide into a stream again.
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