'Tis for the theft of Enna's flower from earth,
These urchins celebrate their dance of mirth
Round the green tree, like fays upon a heath—
Those that are nearest linkt in order bright,
Cheek after cheek, like rose-buds in a wreath;
And those more distant showing from beneath
The others' wings their little eyes of light.
While see! among the clouds, their eldest brother
But just flown up tells with a smile of bliss
This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother
Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss!
Well might the Loves rejoice—and well did they
Who wove these fables picture in their weaving
That blessed truth, (which in a darker day
ORIGEN lost his saintship for believing,[1])—
That Love, eternal Love, whose fadeless ray
Nor time nor death nor sin can overcast,
Even to the depths of hell will find his way,
And soothe and heal and triumph there at last!
GUERCINO'S Agar—where the bondmaid hears
From Abram's lips that he and she must part,
And looks at him with eyes all full of tears
That seem the very last drops from her heart.
Exquisite picture!—let me not be told
Of minor faults, of coloring tame and cold—
If thus to conjure up a face so fair,[2]
So full of sorrow; with the story there
Of all that woman suffers when the stay
Her trusting heart hath leaned on falls away—
If thus to touch the bosom's tenderest spring,
By calling into life such eyes as bring
Back to our sad remembrance some of those
We've smiled and wept with in their joys and woes,
Thus filling them with tears, like tears we've known,
Till all the pictured grief becomes our own—
If this be deemed the victory of Art—
If thus by pen or pencil to lay bare
The deep, fresh, living fountains of the heart
Before all eyes be Genius—it is there!
[1] The extension of the Divine Love ultimately even to the regions of the damned.
[2] It is probable that this fine head is a portrait, as we find it repeated in a picture by Guercino, which is in the possession of Signor Carnuccini, the brother of the celebrated painter at Rome.
EXTRACT V.
Padua.
Fancy and Reality.—Rain-drops and Lakes.—Plan of a Story.—Where to place the Scene of it.—In some unknown Region.—Psalmanazar's Imposture with respect to the Island of Formosa.
The more I've viewed this world the more I've found,
That, filled as 'tis with scenes and creatures rare.
Fancy commands within her own bright round
A world of scenes and creatures far more fair.
Nor is it that her power can call up there
A single charm, that's not from Nature won,
No more than rainbows in their pride can wear
A single hue unborrowed from the sun—
But 'tis the mental medium it shines thro'
That lends to Beauty all its charm and hue;
As the same light that o'er the level lake
One dull monotony of lustre flings,
Will, entering in the rounded raindrop, make
Colors as gay as those on Peris' wings!
And such, I deem, the difference between real,
Existing Beauty and that form ideal
Which she assumes when seen by poets' eyes,
Like sunshine in the drop—with all those dyes
Which Fancy's variegating prism supples.
I have a story of two lovers, filled
With all the pure romance, the blissful sadness,
And the sad, doubtful bliss that ever thrilled
Two young and longing hearts in that sweet madness.
But where to choose the region of my vision
In this wide, vulgar world—what real spot
Can be found out sufficiently Elysian
For two such perfect lovers I know not.
Oh for some fair FORMOSA, such as he,
The young Jew fabled of, in the Indian Sea,
By nothing but its name of Beauty known,
And which Queen Fancy might make all her own,
Her fairy kingdom—take its people, lands,
And tenements into her own bright hands,
And make at least one earthly corner fit
For Love to live in, pure and exquisite!