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CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 OF 
 
 PAINTERS. 
 

CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 PAINTERS. 
 
 HENRY REEVE, ESQ 
 
 " Jeder Character wird Dir ein eigenes Gemahlde seyn, und Du wirst eine 
 herrliche Gallerie von Bildnissen zum Spiegel Deines Geistes um Dich her 
 versammelt haben." 
 
 Tieck's Phantasien. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 M.DCCC.XLIL 
 
 ■ 
 
TR^'t 
 
 H* 
 
 7j 
 
 KJ 
 
 r 
 
THESE compositions were first written down as a kind 
 of sport In art, to describe the painters to whom they 
 severally relate, by some awakened association with a 
 favourite picture, or some general characteristic of the 
 artist's genius. They are here preserved, because It Is 
 pleasant to connect the Impression produced on the mind 
 by a work of art with any familiar expression In lan- 
 guage which the mind may chance to have retained. 
 
 Some of these little sketches have become more serious 
 than the design which prompted them : In some perhaps 
 the tone of criticism has deadened the lively flow of sen- 
 timent which they were meant to convey : / am content If 
 In any of them the Idea of the great works and minds of 
 Artists has been partially approached. 
 
 This little Volume was privately printed two years 
 
ago, and circulated amongst those of his friends in whose 
 thoughts the author might claim some place, when they 
 chanced to return to the works of the masters which are 
 here described : and to their indulgence at such times he 
 then commended it. It is now addressed to a somewhat 
 wider class of readers, if books of such slender preten- 
 tension are read by any class ; but he still pleases him- 
 self with the thought, that it may chance to win the 
 favour of a strangers eye, by reviving some reminiscences 
 of a beauty in art far above its own. 
 
 London, January 1842. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 A DRAWING BY GIOTTO 1 
 
 FRA ANGELICO DA FIESOLE 2 
 
 PIETRO PERUGINO 3 
 
 FRANCESCO FRANCIA 4 
 
 FRA BARTOLOMEO DI SAN MARCO 5 
 
 THE TWO ANGELS 6 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI 7 
 
 SEBASTIAN DEL PIOMBO 8 
 
 RAFFAELLE 9 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI 10 
 
 CORREGGIO 11 
 
 ANDREA DEL SARTO 12 
 
 DOMENICHINO 13 
 
 GIORGIONE 14 
 
 PAOLO VERONESE 15 
 
 TITIAN 16 
 
 ALBRECHT DURER 17 
 
Page 
 
 GIULIO ROMANO 18 
 
 THE CARACCI 19 
 
 ALBANO 20 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO CARAVAGGIO 21 
 
 GUIDO RENI 22 
 
 SALVATOR ROSA 23 
 
 CLAUDE LORRAINE 24 
 
 NICOLAS POUSSIN 25 
 
 GASPAR POUSSIN 26 
 
 RUBENS 27 
 
 REMBRANDT 28 
 
 RUYSDAEL 29 
 
 ALBERT CUYP 30 
 
 WOUVERMANS 31 
 
 VANDYKE, REYNOLDS AND TITIAN 32 
 
 MORALES . . 33 
 
 VELASQUEZ 34 
 
 MURILLO 35 
 
A DRAWING BY GIOTTO, 
 
 DATED 1315. 
 
 Credette Cimabue nella pittura 
 
 Tener lo campo ; ed ora ha Giotto il grido, 
 
 Si che la fama di colui s' oscura. 
 
 Dante, Purg. xi. 97. 
 
 O'er these faint lines perchance did Dante bend, 
 And watch'd the pencil of his solemn friend ; 
 Smiled in his sacred musings as he saw 
 New forms conceived in love, evoked in awe. 
 Such as in visions he himself had known- — 
 Giotto's the lines — the spirit was his own. 
 
FRA ANGELICO DA FIESOLE 
 
 Dum visibiliter Deum cognoscimus, per hunc in invisibilium amorem 
 rapiamur, cogitando scilicet apparentes has pulchritudines arcanorum esse 
 decorum effigies. 
 
 Corderius, in Dionys. Areop. 
 
 Whenever Angels wore a Saint's disguise, 
 And heavenly love looked forth from human eyes, 
 The hood which half concealed the ecstatic face — 
 Adoring image of eternal grace — 
 Allowed the bright unearthly hair to fall 
 In curls of softness so angelical, 
 That all who marvell'd at the sight divine 
 Knew 'twas some Seraph, or a work of thine. 
 
PIETRO PERUGINO. 
 
 Sacrifico laudem Sanctificatori meo, quoniam pulchra trajecta per animas 
 in manus artificiosas ab ilia pulchritudine veniunt quae super animas est, 
 cui suspirat anima mea die ac nocte. 
 
 Sanct. Augustin. Confess, x. 34. 
 
 How calm and beautiful, when Art was young, 
 
 The Seraph-sisters o'er the Painter hung, 
 
 Ere his deep power was strain'd by passions rude, 
 
 Or scattered in delicious lassitude ! 
 
 Pure as the lily in her own long hands, 
 
 Bent like some humbler flower, the Virgin stands, 
 
 Whilst by the grace which from her forehead shone 
 
 The Church made Art's great progeny its own. 
 
 b 2 
 
FRANCESCO FRANCIA 
 
 The golden casket and the chisell'd bowl 
 Were no fit tasks for that religious soul ; 
 For he was of the nobler brotherhood, 
 Whose colours have the touch of time withstood. 
 None ever traced so well that finest grief 
 Which e'en from Angels' bosoms sought relief, 
 Or better limh'd that pale majestic face 
 Whose death-pang was salvation to our race. 
 
FRA BARTOLOMEO DI SAN MARCO 
 
 Antonio. Meint ihr, dass unsre Kunst so viel vermag ? 
 Silvestro. Sie ist die schone Briicke, Regenbogen 
 
 Die zwischen Erd' und Himmel ausgespannt ist. 
 Antonio. Das ist die Religion. 
 
 Correggio, von (Ehlenschlager. 
 
 By gnawing fasts, by vigils kept apart, 
 
 The Monk subdued the blandishments of Art, 
 
 Lest he should lend the transient grace of Earth 
 
 To the pure Mother of her Maker's birth. 
 
 Yet cherubs linger o'er the sad abode, 
 
 And penance 5 self reserves a smile for God : 
 
 Till Art in beatific visions saw 
 
 Those forms which congregate in Love and awe 
 
 Around the Virgin's high and holy throne, 
 
 And Faith look'd up entranced, and knew her own. 
 
THE TWO ANGELS. 
 
 Adam ! I therefore came : nor art thou such 
 Created, or such place hast here to dwell, 
 As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heaven, 
 To visit thee. 
 
 Parad. Lost, book v. 
 
 The two Archangels who have thrones above, 
 The one as Lord of Power, the one of Love, 
 In their great service from Creation's birth, 
 Have been the watchers and the friends of Earth, 
 To hurl the Dragon from his guilty seat, 
 To make the breath of life more wise and sweet ; 
 And thus when Art was deckt by hands divine, 
 Power still was Michael's gift — Love, Raphael, thine 
 
MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI 
 
 'Ev avdpuv, ev Oewv yevos' eic 
 Mias de -Kveo\iev 
 Marpos afityoTepoi, 
 Aieipyei oe 7ra<ra iceKpifxeva 
 Avva/xis — 
 
 aWa ti irpoatpepop.ev 
 Efiirav, t] neyav voov r\- 
 roi (pvaiv, aOavarois. 
 
 Pindar, Nem. vi. 
 
 He ranged the Host of Heaven : the Seraphim 
 Oped the bright eye and stretched the sturdy limb ; 
 Man stood majestic in the strength of years. 
 And woman's beauty shone undimm'd by tears ; 
 With Heaven's high valour on the strenuous brow, 
 With power to conquer fiends, whose frauds they know 
 He formM the Angel-warriors for such strife, — 
 God saw the work was good, and gave them life. 
 
SEBASTIAN DEL PIOMBO 
 
 Sa male peinture 
 Fit des horames vivans comme en fait la nature. 
 
 Antony Deschamps. 
 
 Unlike the Master whose divinest power 
 Made Nature mightier than she was before, 
 He rose but to the manliest part of Man, 
 Viewed Life and Truth in their historic span, 
 Not nursed by fancies which the heart believes, 
 But taught by actions which the head achieves. 
 
 Till in that work of both those gifted hands 
 Joint form of what the Lord of Life commands. 
 The Dead awaken — Lazarus comes forth — 
 Man splits the prison of the yawning earth, 
 Struck by the Word in that tremendous strife 
 ^Twixt conquered Death and the victorious Life. 
 
RAFFAELLE. 
 
 Rapt with the rage of mine own ravisht thought, 
 
 Through contemplation of these goodly sights, 
 
 And glorious images in Heaven wrought, 
 
 Whose wondrous beautie, breathing sweet delights, 
 
 Doth kindle love in high conceipted sprights, 
 
 I fain to tell the things that I behold, 
 
 But feel my wits to faile and tongue to fold. 
 
 Spenser, Hymn of Heavenly Beautie. 
 
 A mother's beauty when her babe is waking, 
 
 That babe's soft limbs from noonday slumber breaking, 
 
 The angelic smile that ripples woman's face, 
 
 And the delicious glow of youthful grace, 
 
 Wrought in the fondest harmony of art, 
 
 Were his least gifts, — his fine terrestrial part. 
 
 Mother of Christ ! devoutly dignified, 
 Clasp, clasp thine awful Babe in tender pride ; 
 Whilst cherubs hovering in the azure blaze 
 Bend on his face the rapture of their gaze. 
 Such mystic splendours shook the Holy Mount, 
 Such streams of glory shot from Mercy's fount, 
 When God's great Saints descended from above, 
 And Man was all transfigured into Love. 
 
10 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 I judge him of a rectified spirit, 
 
 In his bright reason's influence, refined 
 
 Above the tartarous moods of common men ; 
 
 Bearing the nature and similitude 
 
 Of a right heavenly body ; most serene 
 
 In fashion and collection of himself ; 
 
 And then as clear and confident as Jove. 
 
 Ben Jonson, Poetaster. 
 
 He swept away all chilling clouds from sense, 
 Love burned more sacred, wisdom more intense ; 
 And each pure image mystically caught 
 The subtle light of some eternal thought. 
 
 The richest bloom upon those features lies, 
 
 Dimpled and arch'd with woman's courtesies ; 
 
 Soft music still, methinks, is whispering there, 
 
 As if Religion spread from one so fair. 
 
 That dovelike sweetness, knit to reason's power, 
 
 Bade the sage listen and the saint adore, 
 
 When the good Saviour brake the food he blest, 
 
 Though Hell grew human in the Traitor's breast, 
 
 And the serene expectance of his eye 
 
 Weigh'd Man's dread question, ' Master ! is it I ? ' 
 
11 
 
 CORREGGIO. 
 
 Shadows are moving light ; 
 
 And is there aught so moving as is this ? 
 
 Drumrnond of Hawthornden. 
 
 O'er rounded shapes a star of love is glowing 
 In radiance through transparent shadows flowing ; 
 The world's night-textured curtain, dim and dun, 
 Is melted by a light before the Sun, — 
 That light of all the earth, that healing splendour 
 So white and heavenly, yet so soft and tender ; 
 The woodland Penitent, who musing lay, 
 Felt the sweet glory melt her sins away ; 
 And holy transport radiates through the gloom 
 Which thickened round the mystery of the Tomb. 
 Or Venus, rainbow-wing'd, with sportive joy, 
 Smiles showers of bliss upon her darling boy, 
 Where the green depth of Art's enchanting grove 
 Hides the forsaken shrine of Pagan love. 
 
12 
 
 ANDREA DEL SARTO. 
 
 If there was one who felt the blessed ties 
 Which link the souls of human families, 
 'Twas he who grouped in such endearing beauty 
 Affection kneeling at the feet of Duty ; 
 Bade Charity caress her cherub-sons, 
 And drew her heart to those adopted ones ; 
 Show'd Abraham mourning with a fathers grief 
 O'er the dear victim of his great belief; 
 And circled round the infant from above 
 With sainted companies of mortal love. 
 
13 
 
 DOMENICHINO. 
 
 Must you have my picture ? But, indeed, 
 If ever I would have mine drawn to the life, 
 I would have a painter steal it at such time 
 I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers ; 
 There is then a heavenly beauty in 't — the soul 
 Moves in the superficies. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 O'er the calm mirror, whose coerulean breast 
 
 Might float a spirit in her charmed nest, 
 
 The Heavens drop sweetness, and their fragrant rain 
 
 Wakes Eden's garden into bloom again. 
 
 That Muse has Angels for her audience, 
 
 Who hover on the harp-notes' sweet suspense ; 
 
 Unearthly passion gems that Sibyl-eye, 
 
 In which dark spells and hot affections lie ; 
 
 And John's pure gaze, in Heaven's own light sublime, 
 
 Rifts the great veil that curtains Man in Time. 
 
14 
 
 GIORGIONE 
 
 Love-bless 'd Leander was with love so fill'd, 
 That love to all that touch'd him he instill'd ; 
 And as the colour of all things we see 
 To our sight's powers communicated be, 
 So to all objects that in compass came 
 Of any sense he had, his sense's flame 
 Flow'd from all parts, with force so virtual 
 It fired with sense things more insensual. 
 
 Marloive, Hero and Leander 
 
 A globe of tinted opal was his world, 
 Round which the heat of fragrant vapours curPd ; 
 He dream'd of Life, — a gorgeous holiday, 
 With women born to queen it in the May, 
 And men enamour'd to such perfect fire, 
 As made their heart-strings tremble with desire. 
 Ah ! he who dream'd that world, in sadness dies ! 
 The snake still haunts the meads of Paradise, 
 And that voluptuous soul the pang must prove 
 Of Envy's venom on the flowers of Love. 
 
15 
 
 PAOLO VERONESE 
 
 Most potent, grave, and reverend Signors 
 
 Othello. 
 
 In mitred state and sacred linen fold, 
 
 With hood and tunic wrought in cloth of gold, 
 
 Saint, pontiff, noble in the gauds of power 
 
 Record the legend of an humbler hour ; 
 
 But in the midst some simple form divine 
 
 Marks the pure Godhead of that gorgeous shrine. 
 
16 
 
 TITIAN 
 
 How this grace 
 Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power 
 This eye shoots forth ! how big imagination 
 Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture 
 One might interpret ! 
 
 Timon of Athens. 
 
 How deep the firmament's eternal blue ! 
 How fair and fruitful is the landscape's hue ! 
 In power and passion here the Indian boy, 
 Drawn by hot leopards, rushes on his joy ; 
 Here woman, robed in her Venetian charms, 
 Tempts some huge soul to banquet in her arms : 
 Or should the dignity of saint and sage 
 Demand a mould for Truth or reverend Age, 
 On the full brow he thrones the power of Jove, 
 And honies o'er the lips with Christian love. 
 To these great tasks a patriarch's life was given, 
 And his own Angels beckon'd him to Heaven. 
 
17 
 
 ALBRECHT DURER. 
 
 Nascenti homini omnifaria semina et omnigense vitae germina indidit 
 Pater : quae quisque excoluerit ilia adolescent, et fructus suos ferent in 
 illo : si vegetalia, planta net : si sensualia, obrutescit : si rationalia, 
 cceleste evadit animal : si intellectualia, Angelus erit et Dei Alius. 
 
 Pico di Mirandola. 
 
 Good Albrecht Diirer ! I have not the heart 
 To hide thy name in any trick or art. 
 Thou cunning workman of a thousand shapes, 
 Knights, virgins, ghostly men and grinning apes ! 
 Thou dreamer of imperishable dreams ! 
 When Melancholy dozed by Lethe's streams ; 
 When his lean jennet bore Sir Death along 
 Through bosky dells, by castles high and strong, 
 What mystical and self-consuming sadness, 
 Mix'd with a gleam of visionary madness, 
 Chequer'd the kindest soul which ever smiled, 
 In the high moods of Genius' busy child ! 
 
18 
 
 GIULIO ROMANO. 
 
 Mox etiam agrestes Satyros nudavit, et asper 
 Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit : eo quod 
 Illecebris erat et grata, novitate morandus 
 Spectator, functusque sacris, et potus, et exlex. 
 
 Horace. 
 
 Let loose thy Gods, oh Roman ! — Fauns uncouth, 
 
 And a mad crew of vintage-girdled youth, 
 
 With their licentious loves : the Bromian lair 
 
 Burns in a torrent of voluptuous air. 
 
 But Venus, leaning from her dove-drawn car, 
 
 To press the sinews of the God of War, 
 
 Or Perseus on his own heroic steed, 
 
 Lend their old beauty to the outworn creed, 
 
 As if the charm of some magician's wand 
 
 Had given fantastic life to all the band. 
 
19 
 
 THE CARACCI. 
 
 There grew three buds upon the self-same tree, 
 Different as things alike at heart could be : 
 Sweet Louis, like a green and scented spray, 
 In pleasant haunts with summer winds would play ; 
 Augustine blossomed like the passion-flower — 
 Pale rose with purple symbols sadden'd o'er ; 
 Whilst Annibal shot up to larger boughs, 
 On which a cluster of rich fruitage grows. 
 
 c2 
 
20 
 
 ALBANO 
 
 They came : sweet music usher'd the odorous way, 
 And wanton air in twenty sweet forms danced 
 After her fingers ; beauty and love advanced 
 Their ensigns in the downless rosy faces 
 Of youths and maids, led after by the Graces. 
 
 Chapman {completion of Marlowe's Hero and Leander). 
 
 Launch thy gay pinnace in the noonday beam, 
 Let flutes breathe clear o^er Cydnus 5 crisped stream ; 
 The Oreads, scarfed in rainbow zones, are fanned 
 By the warm zephyr of this faery-land ; 
 Earth gleams with flowers, the air with butterflies, — 
 *Tis a gay fable, and like fable dies. 
 
21 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO CARAVAGGIO 
 
 Our haughty Life is crown'd with Darkness. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Is this a Judith, Painter, that I see ? 
 
 Each woman is a Judith unto thee : 
 
 The warlike mail of shadow on the breast, 
 
 The full swart limbs, the dusky-folded vest. 
 
 And the high profile, blanched with passion^ flood, 
 
 Belong to Beauty in a guilty mood. 
 
90 
 
 GUIDO RENI 
 
 Giiido ist eigentlich der Mahler der Seele. 
 
 Schelling, 
 
 Fair as the soul which never dream'd of ill, 
 Strong as the presence of a virtuous will, 
 In the white chambers of these downy breasts 
 The chastest energy of Woman rests : 
 In these slight lines of infant innocence 
 Dwells human beauty undisturbed by sense ; 
 In these last pangs heroic limbs endure 
 The spirit triumphs and the heart is pure. 
 

 SALYATOR ROSA, 
 
 — Questa selva selvaggia ed aspra c forte 
 Che nel pensier rinuova la paura. 
 
 Dante, 
 
 The sylvan painter from some tangled cave, 
 
 Where feathering larches through the rock-clefts wave. 
 
 On summer days would watch the clouds that sail 
 
 With milky bosoms on the southern gale : 
 
 Or bade fierce winds in Ocean chasms arise 
 
 Which rocked the boughs with fitful harmonies, 
 
 Shatter'd the crests of mighty groves, and rent 
 
 The glorious earth with that bold element. 
 
 Art, like a wood-nymph, passionate and free, 
 
 Went out to summer ^neath the greenwood tree, 
 
 When that dear son (enrich'd with arts and wit 
 
 To know mankind and make a friend of it) 
 
 Laughed at the gilded lies of life, and stray'd 
 
 To the cool depths of mountain ambuscade. 
 
24 
 
 CLAUDE LORRAINE 
 
 Vedi il sole che 'n fronte ti riluce ; 
 Vedi T erbetta, i fiori e gli arboscelli 
 Che quella terra sol da se produce. 
 
 Dante, Purg. xxvii. 136. 
 
 The calm of moonlight and the pomp of day 
 Blend with the aery sunbeams on their way, 
 To wave in paths of gold on summer seas, 
 Smile o 5 er the earth and sweep the feathery trees. 
 The ridge of distant mountains, blue and bare, 
 Kisses in light the denser depth of air ; 
 And clouds of incense, sea-born strangers, fly 
 On the clear breeze of that enchanted sky. 
 
25 
 
 NICOLAS POUSSTN. 
 
 The pipe of Pan, to shepherds 
 
 Couch'd in the shadow of Msenalian pines, 
 
 Was passing sweet ; the eyeballs of the leopards 
 
 That in high triumph drew the Lord of Vines, 
 
 How did they sparkle to the cymbal's clang ! 
 
 While Fauns and Satyrs beat the ground 
 
 In cadence, and Silenus swang 
 
 This way and that, with wild flowers crown'd. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 O'er the red earth the dog-star darts his beams, 
 
 The sullen clouds are lulPd in azure gleams. 
 
 The sons of fable in their lusty dance 
 
 Turn the gay nymphs and poise the vine-wreathed lance, 
 
 And youths and maidens 'neath the tented trees 
 
 Wait the cool summons of the freshening breeze. 
 
26 
 
 GASPAR POUSSIN, 
 
 He is retired as noontide dew, 
 
 Or fountains in a noonday grove, 
 And you must love him, ere to you 
 
 He will seem worthy of your love. 
 The outward shows of sky and earth, 
 
 Of hill and valley, he has view'd, 
 And impulses of deeper birth 
 
 Have come to him in solitude. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 If I could wander where a true sun shines, 
 To Grezy Vaudan or thy Apennines, 
 Companionable Artist ! thou shouldst chuse 
 A summer pleasaunce for the happy Muse, 
 Near some fair city, or the ruined fanes 
 Of the old Gods, the genii of those plains. 
 
 Charmed by the witchery of the vernal air 
 
 The sight would revel in a world so fair, 
 
 Crest the bold headland, search the dipping glades, 
 
 Watch the faint sea-line o^er the glossy shades : 
 
 The sunshine dripping through the dense green boughs 
 
 Would bathe the painted banks ; and we M arouse 
 
 A choir of Dian's nymphs from yonder brake, 
 
 To dance around thee for thy kinsman's sake. 
 
27 
 
 RUBENS 
 
 I have been from my childhood alway of a rumorous and stormy nature. 
 
 Martin Luther. 
 
 These florid limbs the soul of passion fills, 
 
 Strength in desire through every muscle thrills ; 
 
 A world of moving colour round him flies, 
 
 Like showers and sunshine in his breezy skies. 
 
 The Wind-God and the Sea-God shout aloud, 
 
 And urge the tempests on their fins of cloud ; 
 
 In wild contortions Frenzy, Guilt, Despair, 
 
 Are hurPd across the battlements of air ; 
 
 But children all unswathed in summer bowers 
 
 Guard luscious fruits and sport with twisted flowers. 
 
28 
 
 REMBRANDT. 
 
 Come a raggio di sol che puro mei 
 
 Per fratta nube, gia prato di fiori 
 
 Vider coperti d'ombra gli occhi miei ; 
 Vid' io cosi piu. turbe di splendori 
 
 Fulgurati di su di raggi ardenti 
 
 Senza veder principio di fulgori. 
 
 Dante, Parad. xxiii. 34. 
 
 From murky pits the fiery vapours rise, 
 Which flare in orange meteors o'er the skies ; 
 The vault of Heaven is strewn with clouds in flighty 
 The chasing whirlwinds urge the dreadful fight ; 
 Terror sits brooding o'er the forest's gloom, 
 Above, a hell of light,— below, a tomb. 
 
 Shed all thy snow-white shafts of light, O Day ! 
 Night ! spread thy tent of bistre and of grey ; 
 That Hope and Life, suffused in one bright star, 
 May, like good planets, send their beams to war 
 With all the gloom that age, or grief, or death 
 Can fling across the upward ways of Faith. 
 
29 
 
 RUYSDAEL 
 
 There is something of softness, not unallied to sorrow, in these mild 
 winter days and their humid sunshine. 
 
 Landor. 
 
 Grey river ! down the mountain stepping-stones 
 
 From piny glens above thy torrent moans; 
 
 Bare are the stems of fir which winter's blast 
 
 (Scarce spent as yet) across the crags has cast ; 
 
 Thick atmospheres and sullen evergreen 
 
 Hang their dense curtain round the sober scene. 
 
 O uninhabitable wilderness ! 
 
 O home for discontent or shy distress ! 
 
 The Artist loved thy sternly sadden' d air, 
 
 Yet scarce a human image placed he there. 
 
30 
 
 ALBERT CUYP 
 
 Ergo tua rura manebunt 
 Et tibi magna satis ; quamvis lapis omnia nudus, 
 Limosoque palus obducat pascua junco. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 The moisten'd lowlands, delicately clear, 
 Through the thin haze and morning gleam appear ; 
 On the smooth herbage cattle graze or sleep, 
 The neatherds by the rushy streamlet keep 
 Their quiet watch, until the day expire, 
 And slanting sunbeams gild the village spire. 
 
31 
 
 WOUYERMANS 
 
 They will tell you by rote where services were done ; at such and such 
 a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy ; who came off bravely, who 
 was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on, and this they 
 con perfectly in the phrase of war. 
 
 Henry V. 
 
 The tucket sounds : dash on, thou Flemish grey ! 
 Speedy bold Walloon, to join the gathering fray ! 
 The skirmish reeks to heaven ; a tawny cloud 
 Wraps the hot combat in its frightful shroud ; 
 In mortal battle struggling for the van, 
 Horse rolls on horse, and man must slaughter man. 
 
32 
 
 VANDYKE, REYNOLDS, AND TITIAN 
 
 (A SAYING OF NORTHCOTE.) 
 
 At least thy pictures look a voice, and we 
 
 Imagine sounds, deceived to that degree, 
 
 We think 't is somewhat more than just to see. 
 
 Dry den. 
 
 Vandyke upon his faithful canvass spread 
 
 The pictured portrait of the mighty dead ; 
 
 Reynolds the graces of his age revives, 
 
 And in his magic glass their image lives ; 
 
 But Titian's portraits, eloquently clear, 
 
 Are living men, — they think, they speak, they hear. 
 
33 
 
 MORALES. 
 
 Tra me si va nella citta dolente. 
 
 Dante. 
 
 Know ye that haughtier and severer land, 
 Where Art was led by Philip's marble hand, 
 Through laurel groves and crypts of sacred dread, 
 Where torches flash upon the palaced dead ? 
 There he surnamed Divine — divine in woe, 
 Bade all the mysteries of torture glow ; 
 In trickling gore the writhing Saint he bathed, 
 In robes of black th' ecstatic martyr swathed, 
 He made the Cross of Jesus more austere, 
 And drew Devotion in the garb of Fear. 
 
34 
 
 VELASQUEZ. 
 
 He had perceived the presence and the power 
 Of greatness ; and deep feeling had impress'd 
 Great objects on his mind, with portraiture 
 And colour so distinct, that on his mind 
 They lay like substances, and almost seem'd 
 To haunt the bodily sense. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Yet there some gallant, stately as the Cid, 
 Springs from the canvass, if the Master bid ; 
 Waves the towered standard of Castille again, 
 And checks his charger with a soldier's rein. 
 Yet there some visage, tried in cunning strife, 
 Hides the shrewd secret of a statesman^ life ; 
 Yet there some monarch in his knighthood stands, 
 Spurns the low earth and half that earth commands. 
 
35 
 
 MURILLO. 
 
 Vidi a voi, Donna, portare 
 Ghirlandetta di fior gentile, 
 E sovra lei vidi volare 
 Angiolel d'Amore umile, 
 E nel suo cantar sottile 
 Diceva : Chi mi vedra. 
 Laudera il mio Signore. 
 
 Dante. 
 
 There too the cheerful Andalusian drew 
 
 In melting colour all his fancy knew : 
 
 No solemn saints, nor forms of glorious youth 
 
 In the high stature of eternal Truth, 
 
 But, buoyM on incense, sportive cherubs rode, 
 
 Toss'd up their arms and round the maiden crowM. 
 
 Some village maiden lent the Virgin's face 
 
 Its sprightly coyness and its simple grace, 
 
 Some rustic girl who scarce an hour before 
 
 With those dark urchins frolicked by the door. 
 
 All natural graces in their forms abide, — 
 
 But natural graces all beatified. 
 
PRINTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAYLOR, 
 RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET. 
 

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