Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/255

Rh

have I seen a piece of art,
 * Of light and shade the mixture fine,

Speak all the passions of the heart,
 * And show true life in every line.

But what is this before my eyes,
 * With every feature, every grace,

That strikes with love, and with surprise,
 * And gives me all the vital face?

It is not Chloris: for, behold,
 * The shifting phantom comes and goes;

And when 'tis here, 'tis pale and cold,
 * Nor any female softness knows.

But 'tis her image, for I feel
 * The very pains that Chloris gives;

Her charms are there, I know them well,
 * I see what in my bosom lives.

Oh, could I but the picture save!
 * 'Tis drawn by her own matchless skill;

Nature the lively colours gave,
 * And she need only look to kill.