CHANTIIKY S SCULPTURE. 181
Where shaded light through storied pane In solemn tinture falls,
Tracing our Lord s ascending flight
I p to his glorious throne. Who took the guileless in His arms,
And blest them as His own.
beautiful ! but where the soul
In Paradise doth walk, There springeth up no angry blast
To bow the floweret s stalk,
There springeth up no cloud to mar
Affection pure and free, And blessed as this peaceful sleep,
Such may their waking be.
The sculpture of Chantrey has seldom been more touchingly exhibited than in the statues of two sleeping <isters, the only children of the Rev. Mr. Robinson, for merly a prebendary of Lichfield Cathedral. They are entwined in each other s arms, the youngest holding in her hand a few snowdrops. Their forms are of perfect proportion, and every muscle seems wrapped in deep repose. You touch the pillow, ere you are convinced that it is not downy, and the sweep of the mattress, and the light folds of their graceful drapery, are all admirably chiselled out of a single block of the purest marble. The epitaph is in harmony with the beauty and pathos of the monument.
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