Dark, though not blind, like thee, Mæonides![6]
Or, Milton! thee; ah, could I reach your strain! 452
Or his, who made Mæonides our own.[7]
Man too he sung: immortal man I sing;
Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life;
What, now, but immortality, can please?
O had he press’d his theme, pursued the track,
Which opens out of darkness into day!
O had he, mounted on his wing of fire,
Soar’d where I sink, and sung immortal man! 460