The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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THE PALACE OF ART.
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
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THE PALACE OF ART.
(THE MANCHESTER ART-TREASURES EXHIBITION.)
Behold this treasury of glorious things,
This shrine of genius, this enchanting place,
Where every muse some precious tribute brings
Of blended beauty, majesty, and grace!
Enter with calm and reverential heart,
With earnest purpose and unclouded mind,
So that thy soul, amid transcendent art,
May feel at once refreshed, exalted, and refined.
This shrine of genius, this enchanting place,
Where every muse some precious tribute brings
Of blended beauty, majesty, and grace!
Enter with calm and reverential heart,
With earnest purpose and unclouded mind,
So that thy soul, amid transcendent art,
May feel at once refreshed, exalted, and refined.
Hark to that tremulous harmony, that swells
Into a gentle surge of solemn sound,
That with a magic influence dispels
The silence, and pervades the air around.
It makes the breast with new emotions sigh,
It stirs the hidden fountains of our tears,
And seems to lift the longing spirit high,
Even to the loftier choir of the according spheres.
Into a gentle surge of solemn sound,
That with a magic influence dispels
The silence, and pervades the air around.
It makes the breast with new emotions sigh,
It stirs the hidden fountains of our tears,
And seems to lift the longing spirit high,
Even to the loftier choir of the according spheres.
While those sweet sounds yet linger in the ear,
Let's thread this glowing wilderness of charms,
And calmly ponder on each object here
That moves, refines, and fascinates, and warms;
Lovely creations that, in happiest hour,
The painter's hand has o'er the canvas thrown,
And shapes of beauty, that the sculptor's power
Has fashioned in his mind, and conjured from the stone.
Let's thread this glowing wilderness of charms,
And calmly ponder on each object here
That moves, refines, and fascinates, and warms;
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The painter's hand has o'er the canvas thrown,
And shapes of beauty, that the sculptor's power
Has fashioned in his mind, and conjured from the stone.
Those mighty masters of the early art,
Those magic wizards of the elder day,
From worldly thoughts and worldly things apart,—
What grandeur did their faculties display!
Lofty conceptions did their souls pervade,
And took immortal shapes at their command;
While reverential feeling moved and swayed,
And wondrously inspired the cunning of their hand.
Those magic wizards of the elder day,
From worldly thoughts and worldly things apart,—
What grandeur did their faculties display!
Lofty conceptions did their souls pervade,
And took immortal shapes at their command;
While reverential feeling moved and swayed,
And wondrously inspired the cunning of their hand.
And have not we, in this our later time,
Our own art-treasures, famous, and not few,
The gay, the graceful, even the sublime,
The sweetly tender, and the grandly true?
Amid the walks of intermingled life
We make our study, find our pictures there,
And send imagination—richly rife
With germs of glorious thought—into a holier air.
Our own art-treasures, famous, and not few,
The gay, the graceful, even the sublime,
The sweetly tender, and the grandly true?
Amid the walks of intermingled life
We make our study, find our pictures there,
And send imagination—richly rife
With germs of glorious thought—into a holier air.
Oh, genius! whose mysterious powers invite
The restless spirit to serenest things,
Fill its recesses with a purer light,
And lend its aspirations heavenward wings;
A noble energy pertains to thee,
A hopeful and a hallowed task is thine,
To set our natures from low passions free,
And give unto our souls glimpses of realms divine!
The restless spirit to serenest things,
Fill its recesses with a purer light,
And lend its aspirations heavenward wings;
A noble energy pertains to thee,
A hopeful and a hallowed task is thine,
To set our natures from low passions free,
And give unto our souls glimpses of realms divine!
258
Music, with stirring or with soothing tones,
Painting, with all thy harmony of hues,
Sculpture, that sitteth upon marble thrones,
And thou, not least of these, poetic muse;—
If ye from earth at once were swept away,
With all the memory of your magic powers,
And all the fires of genius in decay—
Oh, what a priceless loss, what a sad world were ours!
Painting, with all thy harmony of hues,
Sculpture, that sitteth upon marble thrones,
And thou, not least of these, poetic muse;—
If ye from earth at once were swept away,
With all the memory of your magic powers,
And all the fires of genius in decay—
Oh, what a priceless loss, what a sad world were ours!
This may not be; for ye shall more and more
Expand in kindred majesty and grace,
And mingle with each other mighty lore,
To cheer, refine, exalt the human race.
He who inspired the great ones of the past,
He by whom good and beauteous things are given,
Will deign to leave His children to the last
This intellectual dower, this one foretaste of Heaven.
Expand in kindred majesty and grace,
And mingle with each other mighty lore,
To cheer, refine, exalt the human race.
He who inspired the great ones of the past,
He by whom good and beauteous things are given,
Will deign to leave His children to the last
This intellectual dower, this one foretaste of Heaven.
Praise to the men of energy who planned
This princely place, this treasure-crowded hall!
Praise to the wealthy of our native land,
Who nobly answered to a noble call!
And when these riches, which improve the heart,
Are to their wonted places back consigned,
May this transcendent spectacle of art
Be mirrored in our souls, leaving its light behind.
This princely place, this treasure-crowded hall!
Praise to the wealthy of our native land,
Who nobly answered to a noble call!
And when these riches, which improve the heart,
Are to their wonted places back consigned,
May this transcendent spectacle of art
Be mirrored in our souls, leaving its light behind.
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |