ON THE DISCOVERY OF A LADY'S PAINTING.
Reading edition
1 Pygmalion's fate reversed is mine;[1] His marble love took flesh and blood; All that I worshipp'd as divine, That beauty! now 'tis understood, Appears to have no more of life Than that whereof he framed his wife.
2 As women yet, who apprehend Some sudden cause of causeless fear, Although that seeming cause take end, And they behold no danger near, A shaking through their limbs they find, Like leaves saluted by the wind:
3 So though the beauty do appear No beauty, which amazed me so; Yet from my breast I cannot tear The passion which from thence did grow; Nor yet out of my fancy raze The print of that supposèd face.
4 A real beauty, though too near, The fond Narcissus did admire: I dote on that which is nowhere; The sign of beauty feeds my fire. No mortal flame was e'er so cruel As this, which thus survives the fuel!
[1] 'Mine': Ovid, Met. x.