That struggling bosom concentrates its breath,
Nor yields one moan to torture or to death![9]
Sublimest triumph of intrepid Art!
With speechless horror to congeal the heart,
To freeze each pulse, and dart through every vein
Cold thrills of fear, keen sympathies of pain;
Yet teach the spirit how its lofty power
May brave the pangs of fate’s severest hour.
Turn from such conflicts, and enraptured gaze
On scenes where painting all her skill displays: