XXIX.
Yes! call it not of lofty minds the fate
To pass o’er earth in brightness but alone;
High power was made their birthright, to create
A thousand thoughts responsive to their own!
A thousand echoes of their spirit’s tone
Start into life, where’er their path may be,
Still following fast; as when the wind hath blown
O’er Indian groves,[211] a wanderer wild and free,
Kindling and bearing flames afar from tree to tree!