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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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The wreath was form'd; the maiden raised
Her speaking eyes to his, while he—
Oh not upon the flowers now gaz'd,
But on that bright look's witchery.
While, quick as if but then the thought,
Like light, had reach'd his soul, he caught
His pencil up, and, warm and true
As life itself, that love-look drew:

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And, as his raptured task went on,
And forth each kindling feature shone,
Sweet voices, through the moonlight air,
From lips as moonlight fresh and pure,
Thus hail'd the bright dream passing there,
And sung the Birth of Portraiture.
 

The whole of this scene was suggested by Pliny's account of the artist Pausias and his mistress Glycera, Lib. 35. c. 40.