The New Orleans bulletin. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1874-1876, 1875-10-17
TINTORETTO'S LAST PICTURE"
MARGARET ]. PRESTON.

Oh, bitter, bitter truth see 1t now,
Heightening the lefty calmness OF her face
Until It grows TRANSPORTED. On her brow
The gray mists settle begin to trace
The whitening circle round her lips: the fine
Curve of her nostril pinches-ah, the slSn
IndubitableI dare thrust aside
No longer what ye all in vain have tired
To force upon my sight-that day by Gay
NV Veniceslily drops her leaves away,
while have seen no fading, who should
Have marked it earliest.
Only thirty years
For this rich-fruited. gracious womanhood
TO reach its cul nlnation On, II Years,
III prayers, could bride, now quick my worn lour-
Should take the thirty's place for have had
Lies large experience, and l crave no more.
But she! She just begins to taste how glad
The mel over clusters are, when, see the
One blast OF CHASTITY ravage, and here lies
Before my startled eyes
The laden vine, uprooted at a blow
NV ssp. radiso + does not hold face
tn vt is not fairer through my darllng's gilt.
One angel has the rapt, adoring hit
or her white lids another wears the grace
That eddies round her dimpled mouth; and one
The nearest to the Mother and her son
Borrows the tawny glory Of her hair.
And yet how STRANGE frIl, united Whole,
Her Form, her presence, all the breathing soul
OF her, have not pictured o,herwnere
T0maeo, bring my colors hlther haste
Draw hacI, the curtain !: in the dearest light
Set forth the easel am blind tonight
Blind through my weepiDg-but must not lose
Even the shadows shadow. Now they prop
Her for the breeze. 1here! JUST as "ouio
They smooth the pillows. Dear Ottawa, drop
Your Persian scarf across her couch, that so
It's wine-warm fecks may iLterfuse the cold
''- Nay, hold!
Give her no hint: 'twere grief to let her know
That the old, dotng father fain would snatch
This phantom from Deaths clutches. y my
child
How can gaze thus, and be reconciled?
Heart sinks, hand palses, while strive to match
Such loveliness ineffable with blot
OF earthly color. All my touches seem
Ashen and muddy to reflect the CLEAN
or those eDkind.iug eyes, fast fixt on what
Spirits alone can All, now she smiles!
Tomaso, lookl Unless my hope beguiles
NV vision, have caught glimmer here
OF the old shine that used to flash SO clear
Across our evening CIRCLE like the last
Long sunset ray ashanti our gray lagunes,
When sine would lean, with Veronese anear,
Over the balcony to catch the tunes
or gondoiers who fioated, dream-like, past.
Now softly bid Ottawa loosen out
The golden trail OF hair and bring rose
Poor fragile fingers the green stem about
Yea, so but all is blurred through rush OF tears
Only the gay and Joyous long ago,
Free coed with memories OF her happy years
Betwixt me and the canvas seems to glow.
And now-and now
Her hair rays off, an aureole round her brow.
And see, Tomaso, see understand
Not what O for in her slackening hand
I've put palm-branch where meant the rose
Should drop it's spark Of warmth the whitenesf
DER.
How wan she locks Meseems the pallor grows
Nay, push the easel back: can no more!
1; f,,1 tor
eta Robusti as she lay dying.
tTintoretto's masterpiece.