Like the ancient Grecian marbles,
Is his soul with beauty fraught,
And as polished and enduring
Is the sculpture of his thought.
In the Pantheon of our country,
...
|
O Thou who once on earth beneath the weight |
The Paint-King, envious of his cunning art, |
Upon his canvas Nature starts to life, |
A draught from Helicon could once inspire |
As when untaught and blind, |
Maiden! in whose kindling eye, |
"How the shadow the Ideal throws before it |
O sweet, sad autumn of the waning year, |
Sing me that song again, |