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. SONNET... Written on seeing Bewick's Chalk-Drawing of the Head of Hazlitt.


Thus Hazlitt looked! There's life in every line!

Soul-language--fire that color could not give,
See! on that brow how pale-robed thought divine,

In an embodied radiance seems to live!
Ah! in the gaze of that entranced eye,
Humid, yet burning, there beams passion's flame,

Lighting the cheek, and quivering through the frame;
While round the lips, the odour of a sigh

Yet hovers fondly, and its shadow sits
Beneath the channel of the glowing thought

And fire-clothed eloquence, which comes in fits
Like Pythiac inspiration !- Bewick, taught
By thee, in vain doth slander's venom'd dart.
Do its foul work 'gainst him. This head must own a heart.

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