He spake; when, behold, the fair Geraldine’s form
  On the canvass enchantingly glow’d;
His touches—­they flew like the leaves in a storm;
And the pure pearly white and the carnation warm
  Contending in harmony flow’d;

And now did the portrait a twin-sister seem
  To the figure of Geraldine fair: 
With the same sweet expression did faithfully teem
Each muscle; each feature; in short not a gleam
  Was lost of her beautiful hair.

Twas the Fairy herself! but, alas, her blue eyes
  Still a pupil did ruefully lack;
And who shall describe the terrifick surprise
That seiz’d the PAINT-KING when, behold, he descries
  Not a speck on his palette of black!

“I am lost!” said the Fiend, and he shook like a leaf;
  When, casting his eyes to the ground,
He saw the lost pupils of Ellen with grief
In the jaws of a mouse, and the sly little thief
  Whisk away from his sight with a bound.

“I am lost!” said the Fiend, and he fell like a stone;
  Then rising the Fairy in ire
With a touch of her finger she loosen’d her zone,
(While the limbs on the wall gave a terrible groan,)
  And she swelled to a column of fire.

Her spear now a thunder-bolt flash’d in the air,
  And sulphur the vault fill’d around: 
She smote the grim monster; and now by the hair
High-lifting, she hurl’d him in speechless despair
  Down the depths of the chasm profound.

Then over the picture thrice waving her spear,
  “Come forth!” said the good Geraldine;
When, behold, from the canvass descending, appear
Fair Ellen, in person more lovely than e’er,
  With grace more than ever divine!

Myrtilla.

Addressed to a LADY, who lamented that she had never been in love.

“Al nuovo giorno,
Pietosa man’ mi sollevo.”

METASTASIO.

“Ah me! how sad,” Myrtilla cried,
  “To waste alone my years!”
While o’er a streamlet’s flow’ry side
She pensive hung, and watch’d the tide
  That dimpled with her tears.

“The world, though oft to merit blind,
  Alas, I cannot blame;
For they have oft the knee inclined. 
And pour’d the sigh—­but, like the wind
  Of winter, cold it came.

“Ah no! neglect I cannot rue.” 
  Then o’er the limpid stream
She cast her eyes of ether blue;
Her wat’ry eyes look’d up to view
  Their lovelier parent’s beam.

And ever as the sad lament
  Would thus her lips divide,
Her lips, like sister roses bent
By passing gales, elastick sent
  Their blushes from the tide.

While mournful o’er her pictur’d face
  Did then her glances steal,
She seem’d she thought a marble Grace,
T’ enslave with love the human race,
  But ne’er that love to feel.

“Ah, what avail those eyes replete
  With charms without a name! 
Alas, no kindred rays they meet,
To kindle by collision sweet
  Of mutual love the flame!