3.  All things that Peter saw and felt Had a peculiar aspect to him; And when they came within the belt 275 Of his own nature, seemed to melt, Like cloud to cloud, into him.

4.  And so the outward world uniting To that within him, he became Considerably uninviting 280 To those who, meditation slighting, Were moulded in a different frame.

5.  And he scorned them, and they scorned him; And he scorned all they did; and they Did all that men of their own trim 285 Are wont to do to please their whim, Drinking, lying, swearing, play.

6.  Such were his fellow-servants; thus His virtue, like our own, was built Too much on that indignant fuss 290 Hypocrite Pride stirs up in us To bully one another’s guilt.

7.  He had a mind which was somehow At once circumference and centre Of all he might or feel or know; 295 Nothing went ever out, although Something did ever enter.

8.  He had as much imagination As a pint-pot;—­he never could Fancy another situation, 300 From which to dart his contemplation, Than that wherein he stood.

9.  Yet his was individual mind, And new created all he saw In a new manner, and refined 305 Those new creations, and combined Them, by a master-spirit’s law.

10.  Thus—­though unimaginative—­ An apprehension clear, intense, Of his mind’s work, had made alive 310 The things it wrought on; I believe Wakening a sort of thought in sense.

11.  But from the first ’twas Peter’s drift To be a kind of moral eunuch, He touched the hem of Nature’s shift, 315 Felt faint—­and never dared uplift The closest, all-concealing tunic.

12.  She laughed the while, with an arch smile, And kissed him with a sister’s kiss, And said—­My best Diogenes, 320 I love you well—­but, if you please, Tempt not again my deepest bliss.

13.  ’’Tis you are cold—­for I, not coy, Yield love for love, frank, warm, and true; And Burns, a Scottish peasant boy—­ 325 His errors prove it—­knew my joy More, learned friend, than you.