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:"