"My noble friend! was _this_ a place for thee? No fitting place"
"No fitting place" to meet thy "noble friend,"
Where "heart with heart" and "mind with mind" might blend?
"No fitting place?" now, lady, dost thou wrong
The magic might that appertains to song,
And humbly I refute thee--though it seem
Uncourtly bold; for at Castalian stream
I never drank; but oft my spirit bows
Before that altar where thy genius glows:
And who can fail to worship who have seen
_Foscari's_ frenzy in thy tragic scene?
Beheld _Rienzi_ light the latent fire
Of swelling liberty in son and sire;
Or left the seven-hilled city's Roman pride--
With Caesar's pump, and Tiber's classic tide;
And wander'd with thy muse to homely bowers,
Of verdant foliage wreathed with varied flowers.
But pardon, lady, scarcely need I tell,
That song delights in Nature's haunts to dwell;
Eschews the regal robe and stately throne,
To walk, enraptured, in a world its own.
O'er _sylvan_ scenes the muse her radiance flings;
And hallows wheresoe'er she rests her wings.
And thou, all joyous in her blessed smile,
(Soft as the moonbeam on a monkish pile,)
Art gifted with the godlike power to give
A speechless charm to meanest things that live;
And lifeless nature where thy voice is heard,
Like midnight music of the summer bird,
Receives new lustre. E'en the "taper's" light,