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SO?NETS, 317 XXlII. O1? St?EIl?G SOME FIl?E PAIl?TIl?GS. S?UI'ZSDOOS A!?e]o, ! gaze o'eraw'd On the wild wonders thtt thy pencil'dealt, O'erpower'd with ecstasy, too deep to melt In aught, save tears; too holy to applaud By aught, but silence. Nor, enchanting Claude, Less ou thy milder acenan my soul hath. dwelt. Oh, then what rapture must Four so?ls have felt, When ?our conceptions leapt in light abroad, While Artbefore the shrine of Nature knelt, And caught, and clothed her oracles sublime. Oh, I would pour my spirit on the time, When your minds travail'd with each glorious birth, For poets, who are painters.too, in th?me, Claim kindred with your touched Promethean earth ! ......... ?Google
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