Where beauty’s canonisèd shade
Smiles in the sainted hues of heaven
No spectre forms of pleasure fled,
Thy softening, sweetening tints restore;
For thou canst give us back the dead,
E’en in the loveliest looks they wore.
Then blest be Nature’s guardian Muse,
Whose hand her perished grace redeems!
Whose tablet of a thousand hues
The mirror of creation seems.