They leaped up in his imagination full-clad and finished at a single touch from the outside.

_Caliban upon Setebos_ took its rise from a text in the Bible which darted into his mind as he read the _Tempest_.
_Cleon_ arose as he read that verse in St.Paul's speech at Athens, "As certain also of your own poets have said." I fancy that _An Epistle of Karshish_ was born one day when he read those two stanzas in _In Memoriam_ about Lazarus, and imagined how the subject would come to him.
_Fra Lippo Lippi_ slipped into his mind one day at the Belle Arti at Florence as he stood before the picture described in the poem, and walked afterwards at night through the streets of Florence.

These fine things are born in a moment, and come into our world from poet, painter, and musician, full-grown; built, like Aladdin's palace, with all their jewels, in a single night.

They are inexplicable by any scientific explanation, as inexplicable as genius itself.

When have the hereditarians explained Shakespeare, Mozart, Turner?
When has the science of the world explained the birth of a lyric of Burns, a song of Beethoven's, or a drawing of Raffaelle?
Let these gentlemen veil their eyes, and confess their inability to explain the facts.