Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Genius

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Genius.
What is genius?—'Tis a flame
Kindling all the human frame;
'Tis a ray that lights the eye,
Soft in love, in battle high,
'Tis the lightning of the mind,
Unsubdued and undefined:
'Tis the flood that pours along
The full clear melody of song:
'Tis the sacred boon of heaven,
To its choicest favourites given.
They who feel can paint it well—
What is genius?—Byron, tell!

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