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. Sonnet. On seeing the Picture of Æolus by Peligrino Tibaldi, in the Institute at Bologna
2. Sonnet. To My Venerable Friend, the President of the Royal Academy
3. To a Lady Who Spoke Slightingly of Poets
4. Sonnet. On a Falling Group in the Last Judgement of Michael Angelo, in the Cappella Sistina
5. Myrtilla

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