The Cloud-Compeller and the Sungod fair.
Here I'm pure Jove. And yet somehow it jars
Upon my spirit to be so restricted
To one immortal guise, however grand.
Hah! Gods by their own pencils thus depicted
Would make a New Valhalla e'en my hand
Need not disdain to add to. If Narcissus
Had been a painter, now! There is no stream,
Though clear as my own Rhine or the Ilissus,
Could do me justice. I must paint my dream