Awake, ye forms of verse divine!
  Painting! descend on canvas wing,—
And hover o’er my head, Design!
  Your son, your glorious son, I sing;
At Trumbull’s name I break my sloth,
  To load him with poetic riches:
The Titian of a table-cloth!
  The Guido of a pair of breeches!

Come, star-eyed maid, Equality!
  In thine...