Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/628

586 And who give him his place, has the greatest regard

For the poet, who, singing of pedlers and asses,

Has found out the way to dispense with Parnassus.

With old schools, and new schools, and no schools, and all schools.

I should like to know who.

To know who are not:—it would save us some worry.

This "feast of our reason, and flow of the soul."

Oh! my dear Mr. Botherby! sympathise!—I

Now feel such a rapture, I'm ready to fly,

I feel so elastic—"so buoyant—so buoyant!"

This gentle emotion, so seldom our lot

Upon earth. Give it way: 'tis an impulse which lifts

Our spirits from earth—the sublimest of gifts;

For which poor Prometheus was chained to his mountain:

'Tis the source of all sentiment—feeling's true fountain;

'Tis the Vision of Heaven upon Earth: 'tis the gas

Of the soul: 'tis the seizing of shades as they pass,

And making them substance: 'tis something divine:—