Do not all charms flyAt the mere touch of cold philosophy?There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:We knew her woof, her texture: she is givenIn the dull catalogue of common things.Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,Conquer all mysteries by rule of line.Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine—Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile madeThe tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.