Literary Gazette, 24th December, 1825, Page 828
NO. I.—ANECDOTE OF CANOVA.
There is his bust—a noble morning brow,
Clear, open, beautiful, with the thick hair
Hung in dark masses. Look upon it now
In the full daylight;—seems it not to wear
All of least earthly Heaven may well allow
Our mortal state of humbleness to share?
Earth's tenderness is on the lip, but heaven
Has it's own lightning to the forehead given.
He was young Beauty's sculptor—one who caught
The breathing essence of her loveliness,
Giving a visible form to each sweet thought
That dwelt within his bosom's last recess.
Oh, Love! how much by thee is Genius taught!
How after-life will bear thy first impress!
’Tis so in common hearts; but more thy dye
Lasts stamped by Mind unto eternity.
Love taught Canova beauty; 'twas one morn,
Stooped o'er his chisel, while his eye grew dim,
Gazing on shapes that made him feel forlorn
And lonely, that such had no part in him:
There Ariadne, from a silver horn,
Poured purple sparkles o'er the goblet's brim;
And like a form embodied on the air,
Flung back the radiant Venus her bright hair.
