Sonnet LVII.

Per mirar Policleto a prova fiso.     ON THE PORTRAIT OF LAURA PAINTED BY SIMON MEMMI.         Had Policletus seen her, or the rest     Who, in past time, won honour in this art,     A thousand years had but the meaner part     Shown of the beauty which o'ercame my breast.     But Simon sure, in Paradise the blest,     Whence came this noble lady of my heart,     Saw her, and took this wond'rous counterpart     Which should on earth her lovely face attest.     The work, indeed, was one, in heaven alone     To be conceived, not wrought by fellow-men,     Over whose souls the body's veil is thrown:     'Twas done of grace: and fail'd his pencil when     To earth he turn'd our cold and heat to bear,     And felt that his own eyes but mortal were.     MACGREGOR.         Had Polycletus in proud rivalry     On her his model gazed a thousand years,     Not half the beauty to my soul appears,     In fatal conquest, e'er could he descry.     But, Simon, thou wast then in heaven's blest sky,     Ere she, my fair one, left her native spheres,     To trace a loveliness this world reveres     Was thus thy task, from heaven's reality.     Yes--thine the portrait heaven alone could wake,     This clime, nor earth, such beauty could conceive,     Where droops the spirit 'neath its earthly shrine:     The soul's reflected grace was thine to take,     Which not on earth thy painting could achieve,     Where mortal limits all the powers confine.     WOLLASTON.