I sing:—'fit audience let me find though few!'[O]
"So prayed, more gaining than he asked, the Bard—
In holiest mood.[1] Urania,[P] I shall need
Thy guidance, or a greater Muse, if such
Descend to earth or dwell in highest heaven!
For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink
Deep—and, aloft ascending, breathe in worlds
To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil.
All strength—all terror, single or in bands,
That ever was put forth in personal form—