After the first quatrain, the ideal degenerates into lechery: although the speaker claims a kind of neutral ground - "How oft have I, thy precious chain been fingering" - it becomes clear that he has been fingering more than her chain. The use of the continuous tense is awkward (Gibbon apparently never used the auxilliary did; perhaps all auxilliaries threaten to do irrevocable damage to verse even more than prose), and the word fingering has the prurience of Iago or Hamlet or Leontes over "paddling palms" or some such expression. The idea of the image of the chain is to suggest the Ptolemaic universe with its nine concentric spheres, all (typically) contained within the greater sphere of Zepheria. There is perhaps a witty hint that Zepheria is the speaker's potential salvation and that in fingering her necklace he is about to elevate himself on the chain of being. This exalted idea does not sit well with such images as "fingering" and "thy delicious neck". The subsequent image links the pearls of the necklace to the fixed orbs of the firmament, but now, incomprehensibly, Zepheria's face is but "the Globe" (complete with its nuances of the earth), now the "Emperick", the highest and purest sphere of heaven. In the third quatrain, enough of fingering her jewelry, the speaker has pressed her breasts with the "wanton touches" of his hand. Her breasts jump into action and become like the "down of swans". Either the swans or his groping hands take succour in the bliss of "Alcidelian springs". Suddenly, the speaker also discovers his America, his new found world, in her "lily hands". At last, undercutting all of the tactile images of the poem, the speaker turns Zepheria into an idea, a thing not seen and umembraced by arms (the idea is good; the execution leaves something to be desired). Who shall prevent (let = prevent) the speaker from putting Zepheria even in the chief place of heaven? Perhaps only those who have already buried "Anonymous" in the muck of obscurity. Enough said?