. Florence in poetry, history and art . obstinate pride and wanton revelry 239 Florence. Of the Jerusalem below, her sin And folly, if they with united din Drown not at once mandate and prophecy? Therefore the Voice spake from the desert, thenceTo Her, as to her opposite in peace,Silence, and holiness, and innocence,To Her, and to all Lands its warning sent,Crying with earnestness that might not cease,Make straight a highway for the Lord— repent. —William Wordsworth. INCOGNITA OF RAPHAEL. Long has the summer sunlight shoneOn the fair form, the quaint costume;Yet, nameless still, she sits, unkn
. Florence in poetry, history and art . obstinate pride and wanton revelry 239 Florence. Of the Jerusalem below, her sin And folly, if they with united din Drown not at once mandate and prophecy? Therefore the Voice spake from the desert, thenceTo Her, as to her opposite in peace,Silence, and holiness, and innocence,To Her, and to all Lands its warning sent,Crying with earnestness that might not cease,Make straight a highway for the Lord— repent. —William Wordsworth. INCOGNITA OF RAPHAEL. Long has the summer sunlight shoneOn the fair form, the quaint costume;Yet, nameless still, she sits, unknown,A lady in her youthful bloom. Fairer for this! No shadows castTheir blight upon her perfect lot,Whate er her future or her pastIn this bright monument matters not. No record of her high descentThere needs, nor memory of her name;Enough that Raphaels colors blentTo give her features deathless fame! Twas his anointing hand that setThe crown of beauty on her brow;Still lives its early radiance yet,As at the earliest, even now. 240. Velata, or Incognita Raphael Raphael. lis not the ecstasy that glows In all the rapt Cecilias grace;Nor yet the holy calm repose He painted on the Virgins face. Less of the heavens, and more of earth,There lurk within these earnest eyes, The passions that have had their birthAnd grown beneath Italian skies. What mortal thoughts, and cares, and dreams,What hopes and fears and longing rest Where falls the folded veil, or gleamsThe golden necklace on her breast! What mockery of the painted glowMay shade the secret soul within; What griefs from passions overflow,What shame that follows after sin! Yet calm as heavens serenest deeps Are those pure eyes, those glances pure; And queenly is the state she keeps,In beautys lofty trust secure. And who has strayed, by happy chance,Through all those grand and pictured halls, Nor felt the magic of her glance,As when a voice of music calls? Not soon shall I forget the day,— Sweet day, in springs unclouded tim
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