Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/198

166

, celestial maid, so fast away? What lures thee from the banquet of the skies? How canst thou leave thy native realms of day, For this low sphere, this vale of clouds and sighs? —O thou, Canova! soaring high above Italian art,—with Grecian magic vying! We knew thy marble glowed with life and love, But who had seen thee image footsteps flying? —Here to each eye the wind seems gently playing With the light vest, its wavy folds arraying In many a line of undulating grace; While nature, ne'er her mighty laws suspending, Stands, before marble thus with motion blending, One moment lost in thought, its hidden cause to trace.