 | Rhapsodies |  |
74
FRAGMENT.
[Arouse my soul, that I may snatch one ray]
Arouse my soul, that I may snatch one ray,And claim alliance with the god of day;
That I may wake from this lethargic dream,
And own the influence of Apollo's beam;
Then shall bright fancy spread her pinions wide,
Then shall my genius dare some thought untried,
And boldly soaring to bright realms unknown,
Demand the new-found region for my own.
Hark! 'tis Apollo tunes the dulcet lyre,
I feel a spark of his celestial fire.
See where Apelles comes, whose touch divine
Pourtray'd lov'd Nature's image line for line;
Whose matchless hand could Alexander trace,
And ray Campaspe in each blooming grace.
Beside this prince of painters, mark the mien
Of mighty Raphael, beaming heaven serene;
Of him whose pencil, with a touch refin'd,
Pourtray'd the Saviour of all human kind.
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Could paint excess of joy, excess of pain;
Whose magic art an angel's bliss could tell,
Or show the horrors of the damn'd in hell.
Behold great Titian, who so oft display'd
The angel figure of the holy maid;
Whose trees their waving verdure seem'd to bear,
Whose fading distance was not art, but air;
Whose daring genius nothing could control,
But gave the canvas all the poet's soul.
Da Vinci comes, whose high-wrought works might pass
Nor Nature's self reflected in a glass;
But not for this alone he claims our praise,
He drew the countenance a thousand ways;
No human line his pencil could escape,
'Twas man an angel, or t'was man an ape.
The bold Romano's battles then appear,
Dead, dying, victor, vanquish'd, courage, fear;
Each limb and swelling muscle seems to show
Their shield is strength, and death awaits each blow.
Steeds neighing and o'erthrown augment the fray,
'Tis who shall bear the blood-stain'd wreath away.
Lo! where Corregio, master of his art,
Displays the anguish of a bursting heart;
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Her look disdaining life with infamy.
Enough; we know the merits of the dead;
Of living artists little has been said;
Be mine the task, with microscopic eye,
Impartially their merits to descry.
'Tis Nature's law shall sanction or disprove;
The school of nature is the school I love.
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