"For in my own," he mused, "is such a combat of devils,
That I believe torpid age or stupid youth would be better
Than this manhood of mine that has climbed aloft to discover
Heights which I never can reach, and bright on the pinnacle
standing
In the unfading light, my rival crowned victor above me.
If I could hint what I feel, what forever escapes from my pencil,
All after-time should know my will was not less than my failure,
Nor should any one dare remember me merely in pity.
All should read my sorrows and do my discomfiture homage,
Saying: 'Not meanly at any time this painter meant or endeavored;
His was the anguish of one who falls short of the highest
achievement,
Conscious of doing his utmost, and knowing how vast his defeat is.
Life, if he would, might have had some second guerdon to give him,
But he would only the first; and behold! Let us honor
Grief such as his must have been; no other sorrow can match it!
There are certainly some things here that are nobly imagined:
Look! here is masterly power in this play of light, and these
shadows
Boldly are massed; and what color! One can well understand
Buonarotti
Saying the sight of his Curtius was worth the whole journey from
Florence.
Here is a man at least never less than his work; you can feel it
As you can feel in Titian's the painter's inferior spirit.
He and this Pordenone, you know, were rivals; and Titian
Knew how to paint to the popular humor, and spared not
Foul means or fair (his way with rivals) to crush Pordenone,
Who with an equal chance'--
"Alas, if the whole world should tell me
I was his equal in art, and the lie could save me from torment,
So must I be lost, for my soul could never believe it!
Nay, let my envy snarl as fierce as it will at his glory,
Still, when I look on his work, my soul makes obeisance within me,
Humbling itself before the touch that shall never be equalled."

He who sleeps in continual noise is wakened by silence,
And Pordenone was roused from these thoughts anon by the sudden
Hush that had fallen upon the garrulous group of his pupils;
And ere he turned half-way with instinctive looks of inquiry,
He was already warned, with a shock at the heart, of a presence
Long attended, not feared; and he laid one hand on his sword-hilt,
Seizing the sheath with the other hand, that the pallet had drop