(Thomas Warton)

Sonnet Written after Seeing Wilton House

FROM Pembrokes princely dome, where mimic art
Decks with a magic hand the dazzling bowers,
Its living hues where the warm pencil pours,
And breathing forms from the rude marble start,
How to lifes humbler scene can I depart?
My breast all glowing from those gorgeous towers,
In my low cell how cheat the sullen hours!
Vain the complaint; for fancy can impart
(To fate superior, and to fortunes doom)
Whateer adorns the stately-storied hall:
She, mid the dungeons solitary gloom,
Can dress the graces in their Attic pall,
Bid the green landskips vernal beauty bloom,
And in bright trophies clothe the twilight wall.

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