She looked on the rose-bud, she looked round, and thought On all her heart had whispered, and all the Nun had taught. "I am worshipped by lovers, and brightly shines my fame, All Christendom resoundeth the noble Blanch's name. Nor shall I quickly wither like the rose-bud from the tree, My queen-like graces shining when my beauty's gone from me. But when the sculptured marble is raised o'er my head, And the matchless Blanch lies lifeless among the noble dead, This saintly lady Abbess hath made me justly fear, It nothing will avail me that I were worshipped here." LINES ON THE SAME PICTURE BEING REMOVED TO MAKE PLACE FOR A PORTRAIT OF A LADY BY TITIAN. WHO art thou, fair one, who usurpest the place Of Blanch, the lady of the matchless grace? Come, fair and pretty, tell to me, Who, in thy lifetime, thou mightest be. Thou pretty art and fair, But with the lady Blanch thou never must compare. No need for Blanch her history to tell; Whoever saw her face, they there did read it well. But when I look on thee, I only know There lived a pretty maid some hundred years ago. LINES ON THE CELEBRATED PICTURE BY LIONARDO DA VINCI, CALLED THE VIRGIN OF THE ROCKS. WHILE young John runs to greet The greater Infant's feet, The Mother standing by, with trembling passion Of devout admiration, Beholds the engaging mystic play, and pretty adoration; Nor knows as yet the full event Of those so low beginnings, From whence we date our winnings, But wonders at the intent Of those new rites, and what that strange child-worship meant. But at her side An angel doth abide, With such a perfect joy As no dim doubts alloy, A glory, an amenity, Of blind humanity, As if he surely knew All the blest wonder should ensue, Or he had lately left the upper sphere, And had read all the sovran schemes and divine riddles there. ON THE SAME. MATERNAL lady with the virgin grace, Lady most perfect, when thy sinless face A Catholic, Madonna fair, to worship thee. SONNETS. I. TO MISS KELLY. You are not, Kelly, of the common strain, Of genuine freshness, which our hearts avow; And please the better from a pensive face, II. ON THE SIGHT OF SWANS IN KENSINGTON GARDEN. Did heavenly creatures own succession's line, III. Was it some sweet device of Faery That mocked my steps with many a lonely glade, In those fine eyes? methought they spake the while IV. METHINKS how dainty sweet it were, reclined V. WHEN last I roved these winding wood-walks green, Green winding walks, and shady pathways sweet, Ofttimes would Anna seek the silent scene, Shrouding her beauties in the lone retreat. No more I hear her footsteps in the shade: Meets me self-wandering, where in happier days I passed the little cottage which she loved, The cottage which did once my all contain; It spake of days which ne'er must come again, Spake to my heart, and much my heart was moved. "Now fair befall thee, gentle maid!” said I, And from the cottage turned me with a sigh. VI. THE FAMILY NAME. WHAT reason first imposed thee, gentle name, VII. Ir from my lips some angry accents fell, And troubled thoughts, clouding the purer well, |