8
And so it is with this Hall, The roof—the head, as I may say,—comely in itself, is not without its golden embellishments: yet they are but as the stars, whose fires gleam here and there, pranked in the darkness of the sky. Were that sky all fire, it would be beautiful to us no longer, only terrible. Observe, too, that the gold is not otiose, not merely an ornament among ornaments, put there to flatter the eye: it diffuses soft radiance from end to end of the building, and the walls are tinged with its warm glow. Striking upon the gilded beams, and mingling its brightness with theirs, the daylight glances down upon us with a clearness and a richness not all its own.
9
Such are the glories overhead, whose praises might best be sung by him who told of Helen’s high-vaulted chamber, and Olympus’ dazzling peak.
9
And for the rest, the frescoed walls, with their exquisite colouring, so clear, so highly finished, so true to nature, to what can I compare them but to a flowery meadow in spring? Even so the comparison halts. Those flowers wither and decay and shed their beauty: but here is one eternal spring; this meadow fades not, its flowers are everlasting; for no hand is put forth to pluck away their sweetness, only the eye feeds thereon, And what eye would not delight to feed on joys so varied?
10
What orator would not feel that his credit was at stake, and be fired with ambition to surpass himself, rather than be found wanting to his theme?
