Art Criticism

First bring me Raffael, who alone hath seen In all her purity heaven’s virgin queen, Alone hath felt true beauty; bring me then Titian, ennobler of the noblest men; And next the sweet Correggio, nor chastise His little Cupids for those wicked eyes. I want not Rubens’s pink puffy bloom, Nor Rembrandt’s glimmer in a dusty room. With those, and Poussin’s nymph-frequented woods, His templed heights and long-drawn solitudes, I am content, yet fain would look abroad On one warm sunset of Ausonian Claude.