Lucrece, in the paroxysms of her grief, is represented as telling her mournful story

"To pencil'd pensiveness and coloured sorrow,"

to a piece

"Of skilful painting, made for Priam's Troy,"

where

"Many a dry drop seemed a weeping tear,

Shed for the slaughtered husband by the wife;"

and where

"The red blood reek'd to show the painter's strife,

And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights:"