The harmony of grace, the beauty of repose.
LXXV.
And lovely o’er thee sleeps the sunny glow,
When morn and eve in tranquil splendour reign,
And on thy sculptures, as they smile, bestow
Hues that the pencil emulates in vain.
Then the fair forms by Phidias wrought, unfold
Each latent grace, developing in light;
Catch, from soft clouds of purple and of gold,
Each tint that passes, tremulously bright;