LET ancient stories sound the painter's art, Who stole from many a maid his Venus' charms, 'Til warm devotion fir'd each gazer's heart, And every bosom bounded with alarms. He cull'd the beauties of his native isle, From some the blush of beauty's vermeil dyes, From some the lovely look, the winning smile, From some the languid lustre of the eyes. Low to the finish'd form the nations round In adoration bent the pious knee; With myrtle wreaths the artist's brow they crown'd, Whose skill, Ariste, only imaged thee. Ill-fated artist, doom'd so wide to seek The charms that blossom on Ariste's cheek! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMAN, GALLUP, N.M. by KAREN SWENSON ONLY OF THEE AND ME by LOUIS UNTERMEYER CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2 by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS THE PILLAR OF FAME by ROBERT HERRICK THE COMBAT, BETWEENE CONSCIENCE AND COVETOUSNESSE by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE FOUNTAIN OF PITY by HENRY BATAILLE |