FROM Pembroke's princely dome, where mimic Art Decks with a magic hand the dazzling bowers, Its living hues where the warm pencil pours, And breathing forms from the rude marble start -- How to life's humbler scene can I depart, My breast all glowing from these gorgeous towers? In my low cell how cheat the sullen hours? Vain the complaint; for Fancy can impart (To Fate superior, and to Fortune's doom) Whate'er adorns the stately-storied hall. She, 'mid the dungeon's solitary gloom, Can dress the Graces in their Attic pall; Bid the green landscape's vernal beauty bloom, And in bright trophies clothe the twilight wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IDAHO EGG WOMAN by KAREN SWENSON THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER by JOHN DONNE THE MINSTREL BOY by THOMAS MOORE A WISH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |