 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
In robes of white, festooned by mingled flowers,
And ivy wreaths or crowns of amethyst,
The Prætor's guests, on crimson couches, lay
Around the ivory tables, on which stood,
'Mid choicest viands and the costliest wines,
A silver shrine and images of gods.
Pictures—the prodigies of perfect skill—
Hung round the hall of banquet, and to men,
The imitators of divinities,
Made venial every vice. In plenitude
Of power and treachery, their holiest Jove,
Masked to dishonour and betray, achieved
Shame's triumph, and the wanton canvas lived
With Mycon's impure thought; there Bacchus stood,
Gloating o'er lozelries and revel routs,
As Zeuxis drew the king of catamites;
Venus, the earthborn, 'mid voluptuous nymphs,
Reclined on myrtle beds with swimming eyes,
And sunbeam lips dewmoist, and wanton swell
Of bosom far too beautiful, and limbs
Half hid in amorous flowers! and ancient fame
For matchless charm of genius here had shrined
Parrhasius' name! while Passion's maddening heart
Burned o'er the walls, and rival statues stood
Beneath; and there the last wild feast was held
Pompeii's toil and tears e'er gave to Guilt.
And ivy wreaths or crowns of amethyst,
The Prætor's guests, on crimson couches, lay
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'Mid choicest viands and the costliest wines,
A silver shrine and images of gods.
Pictures—the prodigies of perfect skill—
Hung round the hall of banquet, and to men,
The imitators of divinities,
Made venial every vice. In plenitude
Of power and treachery, their holiest Jove,
Masked to dishonour and betray, achieved
Shame's triumph, and the wanton canvas lived
With Mycon's impure thought; there Bacchus stood,
Gloating o'er lozelries and revel routs,
As Zeuxis drew the king of catamites;
Venus, the earthborn, 'mid voluptuous nymphs,
Reclined on myrtle beds with swimming eyes,
And sunbeam lips dewmoist, and wanton swell
Of bosom far too beautiful, and limbs
Half hid in amorous flowers! and ancient fame
For matchless charm of genius here had shrined
Parrhasius' name! while Passion's maddening heart
Burned o'er the walls, and rival statues stood
Beneath; and there the last wild feast was held
Pompeii's toil and tears e'er gave to Guilt.
All the ancient sculptors and painters, inimitable as they were in the execution of their conceptions, faithfully followed, perhaps led the blush-disowning taste of the times; and every banquet-hall and chamber exhibited indubitable testimonials of their uses.—Mycon, Xeuxis and Parrhasius, it is hardly necessary to say, were gifted and celebrated artists.
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |