 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XXV. LEONARDO'S ‘LAST SUPPER’ AT MILAN.
Come! if thy heart be pure, thy spirits calm,If thou hast no dark memories, or but those
Pure self-reproach inflicts—ah no, bestows;
Her wounds, here probed, find here their gentlest balm.
O the sweet sadness of that lifted palm!
The dreadful Deed to come His lips disclose:
Yet love and awe, not wrath, that count'nance shows,
As though they sang even now that ritual psalm
Which closed the Feast piacular. Time hath done
His work on this fair picture; but that Face
His outrage awes. Stranger! the mist of years,
Between thee hung and half its heavenly grace,
Hangs there, a fitting veil; nor that alone—
They see it best who see it through their tears!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |