s way, that way bending,
The depicted forms contending
As instinct with real foul----

VIII.

Nay---minutely to describe
The varied helm, peculiar shield,
The different aspect of each tribe
Which animates th' embattled field,
Would ask the compass of an age,
To mark the whole---must drawl along 70
The tedious circumstantial song,
And haply languish through the thousandth page---

IX.

But rapidly by Painting's aid
Is this intelligence convey'd;
E'en in a single moment's space
We see th' extensive plan unfold,
Omitted not one trifling grace,
In full the complex tale is told;
The grand exploits of half an Iliad rise,
And flash at once on our astonish'd eyes---- 80

X.

Nor serves this sweet instructive art
T' inform the intellect alone,
But often melts th' obdurate heart
And wakes it's paenitential groan---
For when in some great Master's draught,
With genius as with judgement fraught,
Nail'd haply to th' accursed tree,
On his tenter'd wounds suspended,
Every nerve with torture rended,
Th' agonizing GOD we see--- 90
Supported by her weeping train
While the dolorous mother stands
With anguish'd features, writhen hands,
Expressing e'en superior pain;
Who but must mingle in this scene of woe,
What breast can cease to heave, what eye forbear to flow?

XI.

But sorrow now o'erpow'rd by fear,
Soon is check'd the starting tear,
While in yonder piece I view,
Which VANDERVELD's bold pencil drew 100
Through all it's gloom'd extent the ocean
Work'd into wild impetuous motion,
And with more dread t' impress the soul
Grimly frowns the lurid sky,
And the condensing vapours roll,
And the fork'd light'nings fly---
With shatter'd sails and low-bent mast
Drives before the whirling blast
The fondering vessel---Hark! I hear
(Or does the eye deceive the ear?) 110
The thunder's voice, the groaning air,
The billows loud roar
While they break on the shore,
The cries of the wreck'd, and their shrieks of despair.

XII.

With pleasure now I turn my sight
From horror and death to those scenes of delight,
Where CLAUDIO's pencil has essay'd