Poem by Washington Allston

Sonnet. On the Group of the Three Angels before the Tent of Abraham, by Raffaelle, in the Vatican

Oh, now I feel as though another sense
From Heaven descending had informed my soul;
I feel the pleasurable, full control
Of Grace, harmonious, boundless, and intense.
In thee, celestial Group, embodied lives
The subtle mystery; that speaking gives
Itself resolv'd: the essences combin'd
Of Motion ceaseless, Unity complete.
Borne like a leaf by some soft eddying wind,
Mine eyes, impelled as by enchantment sweet,
From part to part with circling motion rove,
Yet seem unconscious of the power to move;
From line to line through endless changes run,
O'er countless shapes, yet seem to gaze on One.

1. Myrtilla
2. The Paint-Kings
3. Sonnet. On the Luxembourg Gallery
4. Sonnet. On seeing the Picture of Æolus by Peligrino Tibaldi, in the Institute at Bologna
5. To a Lady Who Spoke Slightingly of Poets

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