Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/61

 PORTRAIT D'UNE DAME ESPAGNOLE

(FORTUNY)

hand that drew thee lies in Roman soil,

Whilst on the canvas thou hast deathless grown,

Endued by him who deemed it meaner toil

To give the world a portrait save thine own.

Yet had he found thy peer, and Rome forborne

Such envy of his conquest over Time,

Beauty had waked, and Art another morn

Had gained, and ceased to sorrow for her prime.

What spirit was it—where the masters are—

Brooding the gloom and glory that were Spain,

Through centuries waited in its orb afar

Until our age Fortuny's brush should gain?

What stroke but his who pictured in their state

Queen, beggar, noble, Philip's princely brood, 41