Edward Dowden - Durer's "Melencholia" lyrics

The bow of promise, this last flaring star, Terror and hope are in mid-heaven; but She, The mighty-wing'd crown'd Lady Melancholy, Heeds not. O to what vision'd goal afar Does her thought bear those steadfast eyes which are A torch in darkness? There nor shore nor sea, Nor ebbing Time vexes Eternity, Where that lone thought outsoars the mortal bar. Tools of the brain--the globe, the cube--no more She deals with; in her hand the compa** stays; Nor those, industrious genius, of her lore Student and scribe, thou gravest of the fays, Expect this secret to enlarge thy store; She moves through incommunicable ways.