ODE.

Thou who wert born of Psyche and of Love
And fondly nurst on Poesy's warm breast
Painting, oh, power adored!
My country's sons have poured
To thee their orisons; and thou hast blest
Their votive sighs, nor vainly have they strove.

Thou who art wont to soothe the varied pain
That ceaseless throbs at absent lover's heart,
Who first bestowed thine aid
On the young Rhodian maid [FN#19]
When doomed, from him whose love was life, to part,
From a lone bard accept an humble heartfelt strain.

[FN#19] I do not positively recollect whether the incident, here
described is supposed to have transpired at Rhodes, Corinth, or some
other place, and have not, at present, the means for ascertaining.
Painting is called the Rhodian Art, but I know not if on account of
its having been first invented there or for the eminence of the
painters which Rhodes produced; which was so great that an
illustrious enemy refrained from burning the city, which he had in
his power, out of respect to the genius of Protogenes one of its most
celebrated artists.

'Twas the last night the idol youth might stay--
E'en now, to bear him from the rosy isle, [FN#20]
The galley waits: he sleeps
She silent wakes and weeps--
Watches his lips that in light dreaming smile--
Twines her soul round his charms and dreads the coming day.

The dazzling drops her pitious eyes that blind
Hushing her struggling sobs she wiped away:--
Her tapers paly light
Fell on the marble white,
Beside the couch where half reclined he lay
And of his beauteous face the shadow well defined.

Loved deity, then first thou cam'st on earth!--
Pity for truth in sorrow, called thee here!
Sudden the fair, inspired,
With a new thought was fired
Her hand urged on by hope--yet, breathing not for fear--
She traced the unreal shade--'twas hers--an art had birth.

[FN#20] Rhodes, in the Greek tongue, signifies _rose_ or roses.
After being made the scene of the loves of Venus and Apollo, the isle
(says Demoustier) became an enchanting garden, and soon took the name
of the flowers it produced.

By dearest, tenderest feelings still allured,
Thou sought'st our wilds far blooming o'er the deep
Pleased with the soft employ
A fair haired cherub boy
O'er a more helpless child his watch to keep
Was placed; and from his sports the long restraint endure