The Deformed Artist.

The twilight o'er Italia's sky     Had spread a shadowy veil,     And one by one the solemn stars     Looked forth, serene and pale;     As quietly the waning light     Through a high casement stole,     And fell on one with silver hair,     Who shrived a passing soul.     No costly pomp or luxury     Relieved that chamber's gloom,     But glowing forms, by limner's art     Created, thronged the room:     And as the low winds carried far     The chime for evening prayer,     The dying painter's earnest tones     Fell on the languid air.     "The spectral form of Death is nigh,     The thread of life is spun:     Ave Maria! I have looked     Upon my latest sun.     And yet 't is not with pale disease     This frame is worn away;     Nor yet - nor yet with length of years; -     A child but yesterday,"     "I found within my father's hall     No fervent love to claim,     The curse that marked me at my birth     Devoted me to shame.     I saw that on my brother's brow     Angelic beauty lay;     The mirror gave me back a form     That thrilled me with dismay."     "And soon I learned to shrink from all,     The lowly and the high;     To see but scorn on every lip,     Contempt in every eye.     And for a time e'en Nature's smile     A bitter mockery wore,     For beauty stamped each living thing     The wide creation o'er,"     "And I alone was cursed and loathed:     'T was in a garden bower     I mused one eve, and scalding tears     Fell fast on many a flower;     And when I rose, I marked, with awe     And agonizing grief,     A frail mimosa at my feet     Fold close each fragile leaf."     "Alas! how dark my lot, if thus     A plant could shrink from me!     But when I looked again, I saw     That from the honey-bee,     The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing.     It shrank with pain or fear:     A kindred presence I had found, -     Life waxed sublimely clear."     "I climbed the lofty mountain height,     And communed with the skies,     And felt within my grateful heart     New aspirations rise.     Then, thirsting for a higher lore,     I left my childhood's home,     And stayed not till I gazed upon     The hills of fallen Rome."     "I stood amid the glorious forms     Immortal and divine,     The painter's wand had summoned from     The dim Ideal's shrine;     And felt within my fevered soul     Ambition's wasting fire,     And seized the pencil, with a vague     And passionate desire"     "To shadow forth, with lineaments     Of earth, the phantom throng     That swept before my sight in thought,     And lived in storied song.     Vain, vain the dream; - as well might I     Aspire to light a star,     Or pile the gorgeous sunset-clouds     That glitter from afar."     "The threads of life have worn away;     Discordantly they thrill;     And soon the sounding chords will be     For ever mute and still.     And in the spirit-land that lies     Beyond, so calm and gray,     I shall aspire with truer aim: -     Ave Maria! pray!"