STUDIES FOR PICTURES. Bayhos ST. LAWRENCE, NUREMBERG. Beautiful Shrine! that in the olden days Didst rise to guard the consecrated bread From violent hands, or the unhallow'd gaze Of eyes profane; but now untenanted, With doors flung wide, a grave from whence the dead Hath passed though still upon thy marble cross With pierced side, and thorn-crowned, drooping head Christ suffers to redeem our souls from loss! He is risen! hath rent thy bars; thou canst not hold The Lord, the Lord of Hosts-at whose command. All things created were; before whose face The gates of Heaven or Hell alike unfoldWho, dwelling in the illimitable space, Holds all things in the hollow of his hand. O Adam Kraft-with thy disciples twain It needs strong shoulders and stout hearts to bear This burden, self-imposed! Even Atlas fain Would rest sometimes, and get a friend to share His labour, else perchance, in sheer despair, He had fallen, and let the World go all to wrack: But neither he nor Hercules would care To poise a Church for ever on his back. Ah, no! 'tis but a dream, the mischief's in it; LA SAINTE CHAPELLE. Like to a Virgin Queen in robes of state, As the fair girl that by her side doth wait Uncrown'd save with her golden-tressèd hair; Regal in splendour, yet withal as chaste As among flowers the lily: as though some power The treasures of the whole world there had placed To build again Medea's blissful bower, With new enchantments. Soft the sunlight falls On the inlay'd floor; the groinèd roof hangs dim In its own splendour; on the emblazoned walls Glow shapes celestial, wingèd cherubim, With heraldries of heaven, occult, unknownAnd, in the midst, One, on a sapphire throne. |