XXIX.

Yes! call it not of lofty minds the fate To pass o’er earth in brightness but alone; High power was made their birthright, to create A thousand thoughts responsive to their own! A thousand echoes of their spirit’s tone Start into life, where’er their path may be, Still following fast; as when the wind hath blown O’er Indian groves,[211] a wanderer wild and free, Kindling and bearing flames afar from tree to tree!