The purple currents in their channels rest;—
No more the Zephyr's balmy breath can wave
The graceful locks which laughing Hebe gave;—
And fade those lips where fresh vermilion shone,
Cold as the clay, or monumental stone;—
O'er all her limbs an icy numbness spreads,
And marble death eternal quiet sheds.
[2]Great sculptor hail! whom Nature's self design'd
To trace the labyrinths of the human mind—
To read the heart, and give with strong control,