VIII.

He is your only poet;--Passion, pure And sparkling on from heap to heap, displays, _Possessed_, the ore, of which _mere hopes_ allure Nations athwart the deep: the golden rays Flash up in ingots from the mine obscure: On him the Diamond pours its brilliant blaze, While the mild Emerald's beam shades down the dies Of other stones, to soothe the miser's eyes.