To creatures of a nobler sphere;
Where’er I turn my dazzled view,
I marvel what Art’s hand can do!
Here are the lips, and cheeks, and eyes,
The folded hands—the beaming brow—
Those graces Nature’s self supplies—
All burst upon my vision now!
And is it fiction?—can it be
That these are not reality?
The eye, where centres Genius’ light;