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

Rh 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, '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, 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; Whom I remember on the midnight floor, Breathless, with dagger clutch'd, and dripping gore; Would he had seen her—but the silent bier