Washington Allston - Art lyrics

O Art, high gift of Heaven! how oft defamed When seeming praised! To most a craft that fits, By dead, prescriptive Rule, the scattered bits Of gathered knowledge; even so misnamed By some who would invoke thee; but not so By him,—the noble Tuscan,*—who gave birth To forms unseen of man, unknown to Earth, Now living habitants; he felt the glow Of thy revealing touch, that brought to view The invisible Idea; and he knew, E'en by his inward sense, its form was true: 'T was life to life responding, - highest truth! So, through Elisha's faith, the Hebrew Youth Beheld the thin blue air to fiery chariots grow.