And by your good leave, my lord, I have much faith in inspiration.

Whoso sings is a seer." "Tingling is the test," said Babbalanja, "Yoomy, did you tingle, when that song was composing ?" "All over, Babbalanja." "From sole to crown ?" "From finger to finger." "My life for it! true poetry, then, my lord! For this self-same tingling, I say, is the test." "And infused into a song," cried Yoomy, "it evermore causes it so to sparkle, vivify, and irradiate, that no son of man can repeat it without tingling himself.

This very song of mine may prove what I say." "Modest youth!" sighed Media.
"Not more so, than sincere," said Babbalanja.

"He who is frank, will often appear vain, my lord.

Having no guile, he speaks as freely of himself, as of another; and is just as ready to honor his own merits, even if imaginary, as to lament over undeniable deficiencies.