 | The poems (1969) |  |
27 [Stanzas on a Female Painter]
The moon with dewy lustre bright
Her mild ethereal radiance gave,
On paly cloisters gleamed her light,
Or trembled o'er the unresting wave.
Her mild ethereal radiance gave,
On paly cloisters gleamed her light,
Or trembled o'er the unresting wave.
540
'Twas midnight's hour—[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Long o'er the spires and glimmering towers,
The whispering flood and silvery sky,
As one whom musing grief devours,
She glanced by turns her silent eye!
The whispering flood and silvery sky,
As one whom musing grief devours,
She glanced by turns her silent eye!
Like hers, the fair Lavinia's hand
Once mixed the pallet's varied store;
Blest maid, whom once Italia's land
In years of better glory bore!
Once mixed the pallet's varied store;
Blest maid, whom once Italia's land
In years of better glory bore!
[OMITTED]
Like her, O death, O ruthless power,
O grief of heart remembered well,
In lovely youth's untimely hour
Like her soft Tintoretta fell:
O grief of heart remembered well,
In lovely youth's untimely hour
Like her soft Tintoretta fell:
541
Even she, whose science Philip sought
To share his throne, an envied bride,
Like thee deplored, ah, fatal thought,
By every art lamented died.
To share his throne, an envied bride,
Like thee deplored, ah, fatal thought,
By every art lamented died.
Thy draft, where Love his hand employed,
Shall only please a short-lived day
And, timeless like thyself destroyed,
In each revolving year decay.
Shall only please a short-lived day
And, timeless like thyself destroyed,
In each revolving year decay.
Yet soft and melting flowed thy line,
As every Grace had lent her aid,
Bid each mild light unglaring shine
And soft imbrowned each melting shade.
As every Grace had lent her aid,
Bid each mild light unglaring shine
And soft imbrowned each melting shade.
542
And when thy tints, ah, fruitless care!
With softest skill compounded lay,
The flaunting bowers where spring repairs
Were not more bloomy sweet than they!
With softest skill compounded lay,
The flaunting bowers where spring repairs
Were not more bloomy sweet than they!
The child of them who now adore
Thy tender tints and godlike flame,
Pass some few years on Adria's shore,
Shall only know thy gentle name;
Thy tender tints and godlike flame,
Pass some few years on Adria's shore,
Shall only know thy gentle name;
Or, when his eyes shall strive in vain
Thy fairy pencil's stroke to trace,
The faded draft shall scarce retain
Some lifeless line or mangled grace.
Thy fairy pencil's stroke to trace,
The faded draft shall scarce retain
Some lifeless line or mangled grace.
| The poems (1969) | |