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I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie! This chamber for example - turn your head

All that's behind us! You don't understand

Nor care to understand about my art, But you can hear at least when people speak:

And that cartoon, the second from the door -It is the thing, Love! so such thing should be

60

Behold Madonna! - I am bold to say.
I can do with my pencil what I know,
What I see, what at bottom of my heart
I wish for, if I ever wish so deep-
Do easily, too when I say, perfectly,
I do not boast, perhaps: yourself are judge,
Who listened to the Legate's talk last
week,

And just as much they used to say in France.

At any rate 't is easy, all of it!

No sketches first, no studies, that's long past:

I do what many dream of all their lives, 69 Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do, And fail in doing. I could count twenty such

On twice your fingers, and not leave this town,

Who strive-you don't know how the others strive

To paint a little thing like that you smeared Carelessly passing with your robes afloat,-Yet do much less, so much less, Someone

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That arm is wrongly put - and there again

A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines,
Its body, so to speak: its soul is right,
He means right—that, a child may under-
stand.

Still, what an arm! and I could alter it:
But all the play, the insight and the

stretch

Out of me, out of me! And wherefore out?

Had you enjoined them on me, given me soul,

We might have risen to Rafael, I and you! Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I

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I reached it ere the triumph, what is lost? Let my hands frame your face in your hair's gold,

You beautiful Lucrezia that are mine!
"Rafael did this, Andrea painted that;
The Roman's is the better when you pray,
But still the other's Virgin was his wife
Men will excuse me. I am glad to judge
Both pictures in your presence; clearer
grows

My better fortune, I resolve to think.
For, do you know, Lucrezia, as God lives,
Said one day Agnolo, his very self,

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To Rafael. I have known it all these

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I am grown peaceful as old age to-nightI regret little, I would change still less. Since there my past life lies, why alter it? The very wrong to Francis! - it is true I took his coin, was tempted and complied, And built this house and sinned, and all is said.

My father and my mother died of want. 250 Well, had I riches of my own? you see How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot.

They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they died:

And I have labored somewhat in my time And not been paid profusely. Some good son Paint my two hundred pictures - let him try!

No doubt, there's something strikes a balance. Yes,

You loved me quite enough, it seems to

night.

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Not on the vulgar mass

Called "work," must sentence pass,

Take it and try its worth: here dies another Things done, that took the eye and had the

day."

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