Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/21

Those kindlier seasons and that softer sky.
Through the long morn, from art to art we roam,
(For genius here has ever found a home).
See grace and truth young Newton's brows enwreathe,
From Chantrey's hand the soften'd marble breathe;
The wond'ring stranger pausing as he cries,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
'Tis he—the friend long lost—that smile, those eyes
Restor'd are his,—ah! now he time defies!
Pleas'd we behold another Reynolds shine,
Lamented Lawrence! in each touch of thine;
So pure, so true, the aerial colours fall,
And blend with life the animated wall;
Flush'd with rich Nature's hues, the temper'd ray
Steals into shade, and softly melts away.
From Peel's fair eyes such streams of radiance flow,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
On Richmond's cheek such bright carnations glow,
While Genius builds his throne on Canning's thoughtful brow.

Or if the Tragic Muse her sceptre wield,
All eye—all ear—intent with tears, I yield
To Kemble's charms—Nature with Art—I hear
Siddons revived again;—and now appear
(Would he had seen her, but he is no more;$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Whom I remember on the midnight floor,
Breathless, with dagger clutch'd, and dripping gore;
Would he had seen her—but the silent bier