Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And read more

Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth,
Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire;
Men, women, and all animals that breathe
Are statues, and not paintings.

So stands the statue that enchants the world,
So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
The read more

So stands the statue that enchants the world,
So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.

Not from a vain or shallow thought
His awful Jove young Phidias brought.

Not from a vain or shallow thought
His awful Jove young Phidias brought.

A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.

A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty.

The Paphian Queen to Cnidos made repair
Across the tide to see her image there:
Then looking read more

The Paphian Queen to Cnidos made repair
Across the tide to see her image there:
Then looking up and round the prospect wide,
When did Praxiteles see me thus? she cried.

In sculpture did ever anybody call the Apollo a fancy piece? Or
say of the Laocoon how it might read more

In sculpture did ever anybody call the Apollo a fancy piece? Or
say of the Laocoon how it might be made difference? A
masterpiece of art has in the mind a fixed place in the chain of
being, as much as a plant or a crystal.

The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

The best artist has that thought alone Which is contained within the marble shell; The sculptor's hand can only break read more

The best artist has that thought alone Which is contained within the marble shell; The sculptor's hand can only break the spell To free the figures slumbering in the stone

The stone unhewn and cold
Becomes a living mould,
The more the marble wastes
read more

The stone unhewn and cold
Becomes a living mould,
The more the marble wastes
The more the statue grows.