SonnetOn seeing the Picture of Æolus byPeligrino Tibaldi, in the Institute at Bologna.Full well, Tibaldi, did thy kindred mindThe mighty spell of Bonarroti own.Like one who, reading magick words, receivesThe gift of intercourse with worlds uknnown,'Twas thine, decyph'ring Nature's mystick leaves,To hold strange converse with the viewless wind;To see the Spirits, in embodied forms,Of gales and whirlwinds, hurricanes and storms.For, lo! obedient to thy bidding, teemsFierce into shape their stern relentless Lord:His form of motion ever-restless seems;Or, if to rest inclin'd his turbid soul,On Hecla's top to stretch, and give the wordTo subject Winds that sweep the desert pole.
Full well, Tibaldi, did thy kindred mindThe mighty spell of Bonarroti own.Like one who, reading magick words, receivesThe gift of intercourse with worlds uknnown,'Twas thine, decyph'ring Nature's mystick leaves,To hold strange converse with the viewless wind;To see the Spirits, in embodied forms,Of gales and whirlwinds, hurricanes and storms.For, lo! obedient to thy bidding, teemsFierce into shape their stern relentless Lord:His form of motion ever-restless seems;Or, if to rest inclin'd his turbid soul,On Hecla's top to stretch, and give the wordTo subject Winds that sweep the desert pole.