The Dramatist may wear triumphant bays;
And see the wondering people's tranc'd amaze,
The while unrolls great Homer to their gaze,
His gorgeous, many-coloured tapestry.

But lofty Pindar's heaven-directed flight,
Petrarca's song, mystic and sad as night,
Fall dull upon the common ear—their might
Is to the world a mystery.

Such spirits dwell but with the spiritual—
Their godlike souls disdaining to enthrall;
Within the limits of the actual,
Men pass, unheeding the divinity.

Their name, indeed, is echoed by the crowd;
But from amidst the masses earthward bowed,
Few lift the head, with kindred soul endowed,
To list their Orphic melody.