 | Poetical sketches |  |
But Laura now appears in view:
Such faultless figure Guido drew,
When in her softest happiest guise,
He sketched ‘our Lady’ of the skies:
That lady's frame such soul inspired—
By love attuned, by grace attired!
Her ye may fear: for not a beam
From roughest agate casts it's gleam;
No vein so fine, no speck so small,
But her quick glance descries them all—
‘Fear!’ the rash phrase, my muse, disprove:
For who can fear, whom all must love?
Such faultless figure Guido drew,
When in her softest happiest guise,
He sketched ‘our Lady’ of the skies:
That lady's frame such soul inspired—
By love attuned, by grace attired!
Her ye may fear: for not a beam
From roughest agate casts it's gleam;
No vein so fine, no speck so small,
But her quick glance descries them all—
‘Fear!’ the rash phrase, my muse, disprove:
For who can fear, whom all must love?
| Poetical sketches | |