Malvern Hills with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition |
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ON THE MILTON GALLERY. |
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VI. ON THE MILTON GALLERY.
LAWRENCE! thy native powers, by art refined,
Unrivall'd, character the manly mind:—
'Tis, Hoppner, thine to catch the witching grace
Of beauty's eye, and sweetly-smiling face:
Unrivall'd, character the manly mind:—
'Tis, Hoppner, thine to catch the witching grace
Of beauty's eye, and sweetly-smiling face:
To nobler heights thy genius, Barry, soars,
Well pleased to linger on the Thracian shores;
Or trace the scenes where attic sports display
The dawn of science ripening into day;
Th' Olympic dust, the allegoric flood,
And final guerdon of the great, and good.
To Opie's pencil, liberal Nature gave
Her fleeting forms, with truth severe to save;
To paint emotion in its liveliest glow,
To thrill with horror, or to melt with woe;
These, Nature all!—But who to thee has given
O, Fuseli! the keys of hell and heaven?—
Taught thee to venture down the dark abyss,
Or ope the regions of primeval bliss?
Well pleased to linger on the Thracian shores;
Or trace the scenes where attic sports display
The dawn of science ripening into day;
Th' Olympic dust, the allegoric flood,
And final guerdon of the great, and good.
To Opie's pencil, liberal Nature gave
Her fleeting forms, with truth severe to save;
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To thrill with horror, or to melt with woe;
These, Nature all!—But who to thee has given
O, Fuseli! the keys of hell and heaven?—
Taught thee to venture down the dark abyss,
Or ope the regions of primeval bliss?
Whether thy Lapland orgies I behold,
Or Arimaspian, 'scaped with pilfer'd gold;
Mab's junket feats; or that delusive sprite,
Whose pranks mislead the wandering boors of night;
The lubber fiend, outstretch'd, the chimney near,
Or sad Ulysses on the larboard steer;
Or him, with murky wings, whom crowds invoke,
To deal the last, but long-suspended stroke.
Th' unbody'd thought with keen delight I view,
Though far from Nature, yet to Fancy, true.
Or Arimaspian, 'scaped with pilfer'd gold;
Mab's junket feats; or that delusive sprite,
Whose pranks mislead the wandering boors of night;
The lubber fiend, outstretch'd, the chimney near,
Or sad Ulysses on the larboard steer;
Or him, with murky wings, whom crowds invoke,
To deal the last, but long-suspended stroke.
Th' unbody'd thought with keen delight I view,
Though far from Nature, yet to Fancy, true.
Such Shakspeare's praise full-oft; who “spurn'd the reign
“Of panting time”—Such was thy poet's strain.—
Like him, no vulgar bounds thy fire repress—
Thou giv'st to sight, what Milton dared express!
“Of panting time”—Such was thy poet's strain.—
Like him, no vulgar bounds thy fire repress—
Thou giv'st to sight, what Milton dared express!
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