The scholar of the Renaissance, half-genius, half-charlatan, would have casuistically defended or apologised for his errors, and through the wreathing mists of sophistry would have shot forth ever and anon some ray of truth.
We receive from _Paracelsus_ an impression of the affluence of youth.
There is no husbanding of resources, and perhaps too little reserve of power.

Where the poet most abandons himself to his ardour of thought and imagination he achieves his highest work.

The stress and tension of his enthusiasm are perhaps too continuous, too seldom relieved by spaces of repose.

It is all too much of a Mazeppa ride; there are times when we pray for a good quarter of an hour of comfortable dulness, or at least of wholesome bovine placidity.

The laws of such a poem are wholly determined from within.