Canto CVII
Heart-affluence in discursive talkFrom household fountains never dry;The critic clearness of an eye,That saw thro’ all the Muses’ walk;
Seraphic intellect and forceTo seize and throw the doubts of man;Impassion’d logic, which outranThe hearer in its fiery course;
High nature amorous of the good,But touch’d with no ascetic gloom;And passion pure in snowy bloomThro’ all the years of April blood;
A love of freedom rarely felt,Of freedom in her regal seatOf England, not the schoolboy heat,The blind hysterics of the Celt;
And manhood fused with female graceIn such a sort, the child would twine,A trustful hand, unasked, in thine,And find his comfort in thy face;
All these have been, and thee mine eyesHave look’d on: if they look’d in vainMy shame is greater who remain,Nor let thy wisdom make me wise.