Down the fine fibres from the sentient brain
Roll subtly-surging. Pressing on his steps
Lo! Priestley there, Patriot, and Saint, and Sage,
Whom that my fleshly eye hath never seen
A childish pang of impotent regret
Hath thrill'd my heart. Him from his native land
1796.
Up the fine fibres thro' the sentient brain
Pass in fine surges. Pressing on his steps
Lo! Priestley there
1803.
[[378-80]]
Sweeping before the rapt prophetic Gaze
Bright as what glories of the jasper throne
Stream from the gorgeous and face-veiling plumes
Of Spirits adoring! Ye blest years! must end
1796.
[[380]]
they bend] he bends 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.
[[387]]