Beglisten

I see a deep deep sky, Which wears a crown of gold-tipped clouds, In which beglisten stars.

But here, methinks, most witching-succulent For orgy of Elsinore, 't were this old wine Of Capri's isle, beglisten'd with aquamarine Of the groined grotto, where the naked diver Turns fish of silver, in the upslanting gold Of liquid-burning [...]