To Mr. Fuseli

Poet , and Painter! at whose call arise
Æthereal visions, that on " Fancy's Child "
Beam'd hovering, as on Avon's bank it smil'd,
And Genius hail'd the offspring! Never dies
What, so conceiv'd, the charm of truth allies
To inspiration — beautifully wild,
And proudly daring; — by the dull revil'd —
Above the Pedant's wing, — to thee supplies
An elevated Nature's throne supreme.
Thus Milton Spirits drew; — Salvator thus
Frown'd in his caverns with a deeper gloom
Than Terror's picture, in the living dream
That " made Night hideous: " — but reserv'd for us ,
In Fuseli , an Athens , and a Rome! —
No more shall words the bold and sweeping line
Of Angelo commend: — It breathes in thine .
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