Haydon! Forgive me, that I cannot speak
  Definitively on these mighty things;
  Forgive me that I have not Eagle’s wings—
That what I want I know not where to seek:
And think that I would not be over meek
  In rolling out upfollow’d thunderings,
  Even to the steep of Helciconian springs,
Were I of ample strength for such a freak—
Think too that all those numbers should be thine;
  Whose else? In this who touch thy vesture’s hem?
For when men star’d at what was most divine
  With browless idiotism—o’erwise phlegm—
Thou hadst beheld the Hesperean shine
  Of their star in the East, and gone to worship them.

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