 | The Outcast, and other poems |  |
190
DANTE'S BEATRICE,
AS PAINTED BY ALLSTON, AND ENGRAVED BY CHENEY.
The hand of God may mar the outward form,And leave the spirit noble, generous, true—
As a rich diamond in a setting rude,
Gleaming with heaven-lit lustre, deep and pure.
And thus, the hunchback I perchance might choose
To be my friend: but the poor cripple—who
Hath grimed the soul with love of falsehood; who
Hath soiled the immortal gem forever—
Alas! the form, dishonored, still doth hold
A thing more truly worthless than itself!
Unholy vision of unwelcome dreams!
From such I turn as from a viper crushed,
That, writhing, strikes the air with aimless spite—
And wipe the sullying image from my breast,
By gazing on this fair creation; a soul
Pure as a gem, within a form as pure!
Fair Beatrice, whom Dante loved! whose soul
Could stir his deep-toned lyre, and bid its voice
Undying linger in the ear of ages—
To thee I bow! for on thy holy brow,
There is a light as from a diamond,
By God's own finger set! ---.
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