Looking far forth from his aerial cell, 85
A young Ascetic—Poet, Hero, Sage,
He might have been, Lover belike he was—
If they received into a conscious ear
The notes whose first faint greeting startled me,
Whose sedulous iteration thrilled with joy 90
My heart—may have been moved like me to think,
Ah! not like me who walk in the world’s ways,
On the great Prophet, styled the Voice of One
Crying amid the wilderness, and given,