Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Genius

Genius.

What is genius?—'Tis a flameKindling 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 alongThe 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!