Near Spenser, On Keats

within this good book likened, I find greatest Muse
lying in wait for mine self to be so movingly inspired,
and I in turn await not long to my greatest hindrance lose:
the fear once was I bound, now am I free to rise the higher-
no longer afraid am I to pick the strings of Muse's lyre!
how free I am, he who knows not a Muse unguiding-
not withheld the Muse's spark for which others so perspire!
and tho I know this verse not to be full law abiding,
I care not to find my truest senses hiding!