'Twas the last night the idol youth might stay—
E'en now, to bear him from the rosy isle, [FN#20]
The galley waits: he sleeps
She silent wakes and weeps—
Watches his lips that in light dreaming smile—
Twines her soul round his charms and dreads the coming day.
The dazzling drops her pitious eyes that blind
Hushing her struggling sobs she wiped away:—
Her tapers paly light
Fell on the marble white,
Beside the couch where half reclined he lay
And of his beauteous face the shadow well defined.
Loved deity, then first thou cam'st on earth!—
Pity for truth in sorrow, called thee here!
Sudden the fair, inspired,
With a new thought was fired
Her hand urged on by hope—yet, breathing not for fear—
She traced the unreal shade—'twas hers—an art had birth.
[FN#20] Rhodes, in the Greek tongue, signifies rose or roses. After being made the scene of the loves of Venus and Apollo, the isle (says Demoustier) became an enchanting garden, and soon took the name of the flowers it produced.
By dearest, tenderest feelings still allured,
Thou sought'st our wilds far blooming o'er the deep
Pleased with the soft employ
A fair haired cherub boy
O'er a more helpless child his watch to keep
Was placed; and from his sports the long restraint endured.
Fair as the hues of heaven, the innocent
Lay like a phantom born of some mild soul;
A drop, for it had wept
A moment ere it slept,
O'er its light vermil cheek was seen to roll
And its young guardian's heart drank beauty as he leant.
That nameless wish to nought but genius known.—
Indefinite—but in each fibre felt,
Whispered. The boy elate
Burned to perpetuate
The full pervasive bliss; enrapt he knelt—
Thou saw'st—a pencil's by—and infant West's thine own.
Soon the plumed savage, from his leafy home
Emerging, saw and loved the gifted child,
And soon, beneath their care,
His hands the tints prepare,
That strain their shapely limbs, in grandeur wild
As thro' their arching woods, the desert warriors roam. [FN#21]
[FN#21] Sir Benjamin West, when a child, was presented with the primitive colours by an Indian. See Galt's Life of West.
Please he repaid their plans, nor those alone;
Sped by his strength the painted arrow flew;
And oft the soaring bird
For shape, or hue preferred,
To make a model for his art he knew
While sovereign Nature saw—and smiled upon her throne.