ets. Judge with me, my lord,
of the effect which they produce. The first represents AEneas in the
Elysian fields, when he wishes to approach Dido. The indignant shade
retires, rejoiced that she no longer carries in her bosom that heart
which would still beat with love at the aspect of her guilty paramour.
The vapoury colour of the shades and the paleness of the surrounding
scene, form a contrast with the life-like appearance of AEneas and of the
sybil who conducts him. But this kind of effect is an amusement of the
artist, and the description of the poet is necessarily superior to
anything that painting can produce. I will say as much of this picture
of Clorinda dying, and Tancred. The utmost pathos which it can excite,
is to call to our minds the beautiful lines of Tasso, when Clorinda
pardons her adoring enemy who has just pierced her breast. Painting
necessarily becomes subordinate to poetry, when devoted to subjects
which have been treated by great poets; for their words leave an
impression which effaces every other; the situations which they have
chosen almost ever derive their chief strength from the development of
the passions and their eloquence, whilst the greater part of picturesque
effects arises from a calm beauty, a simple expression, a noble
attitude, a moment of repose, worthy of being indefinitely prolonged
without ever wearying the eye.

"Your terrible Shakespeare, my lord," continued Corinne, "has furnished
the subject of the third dramatic picture--it is Macbeth,--the
invincible Macbeth--who, ready to fight Macduff, whose wife and children
he has put to death, learns that the oracle of the witches is
accomplished, that Birnam Wood is advancing to Dunsinane, and that he is
fighting a man who was born after the death of his mother. Macbeth is
conquered by fate, but not by his adversary.--He grasps the sword with a
desperate hand;--he knows that he is about to die;--but wishes to try
whether human strength cannot triumph over destiny. There is certainly
in this head, a fine expression of wildness and fury--of trouble and of
energy; but how many poetical beauties do we miss? Is it possible to
paint Macbeth plunged in guilt by the spells of ambition, which offer
themselves to him under the shape of witchcraft? How can painting
express the terror which he feels? That terror, however, which is not
inconsistent with intrepid bravery? Is it possible to characterise that
peculiar species of superstition which o