Immortal sweets. With sense to spirit turned
Who heard the song inhaled those sweets. Their eyes
Flashing, their passionate hands and heaving breasts,
Tumult self-stilled, and mute, expectant trance,
’Twas these that gave their bard his twofold might,
That might denied to poets later born
Who, singing to soft brains and hearts ice-hard,
Applauded or contemned, alike roll round
A vainly-seeking eye, and, famished, drop
A hand clay-cold upon the unechoing shell,