THOU Saxon-Greek, whose fancy-teeming soul
Unfolds before our eyes the glowing roll
Of antique lore, and shows us how to read
Of godlike love, the terror and the meed;
And how, descending, came from heavenly birth
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The beauty and the loveliness of earth;
Or, dearer still, to dream our life away,
Hearing the nightingale's low throbbing lay.
Spirit divine! How did I feel thy might,
As once I sat enwrapped in shady night,
While all was hushed, save where on leathern wing
The bat flits by, or waters murmuring
Invite the soul to sleep and dewy ease,
With all the senses hushed, unskilled to please
The raptured soul, as, lingering on thy lay,
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THE NEW PHYSICAL LABORATORY.
