And lo! when such a dream might well seem vain,
Propitious fate smiled on me once again,
And through the mists of time's close-woven pall
A glint of light on one dim form did fall,
Which, as I gazed more earnestly, became
A living soul, discovered by the flame
Of glowing inspiration which possessed
Even now, as when he lived, the poet's breast.
Did I deceive myself? Could it be true
A new poetic star was in my view,