The Pilgrims of the Rhine by Edward Bulwer-lytton

But not to you alone, O Sons Of Song, The wings that float the loftier airs along.

Whoever lifts us from the dust we are, Beyond the sensual to spiritual goals; Who from the MOMENT and the SELF afar By deathless deeds allures reluctant souls, Gives the warm life to what the Limner draws, -- Plato but thought what godlike Cato was.*