Libels on Poets.—Cicero tells us, Democritus and Plato said that there could be no good poet without a tincture of madness; and Aristotle calls poets madmen.—P.T.W.
THOU WERT THE RAINBOW OF MY DREAMS.
Thou wert the rainbow of my dreams,
To whom the eyes of Hope might turn,
And bid her sacred flame arise
Like incense from the festal urn;
But as the thunder clouds conspire
To wreck the lovely summer sky,