Near by his side Were rudely strewn the handmaids of his toil; And on his easel hung a picture full Of beauty as the glow on Dian’s front. No human eye had ever turned its gaze Upon that fair and sacred thing, save one, And little recked he now of bliss in store. The morning breeze crept in the painter’s hall, And catching its fresh scent he woke and stared Upon the sky that blazed with living light; And then again around the hall he cast A look that spoke of sorrow and of pain. And while he tried to chase away the clouds That brooded o’er him like a fearful spell, The radiant image of that lovely one That was his nightly dream, flashed on his sight; With wonderment he stood and scarcely breathed, For fear a lightsome sound might fright her far. Ay! there she beamed—a rainbow in the storm— For in his sleep his mighty genius woke, And gave embodiment to face and form; And joy clung round his overburdened heart, Like sunlight on the drooping bud, when storms Have rocked its tender petals in the breeze! * * * * * [Illustration: Painted by Gainsborough Engraved by F. Humphreys THE COTTAGE DOOR. _Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine_] * * * * * TURN NOT AWAY. BY HENRY MORFORD. If a voice from the far and happy land Ever echoed over thy cradle bed; If a mother’s voice and a mother’s hand Ever laid a blessing upon thy head; If a golden truth from the sacred page, Ever was thine in an earlier day, And still lives on in thy riper age— Turn not away. If hope beat high when thy youth began— Bright hope and love for thy human kind— And cares have pressed on the heart of man Till love is weary and hope is blind; If still one star of all the host, Burns with an old remembered ray, Believe not all of thy life is lost— Turn not away. If sickness calls thee with feeble cry, Or suffering moans from its bed of pain; If a pleading comes from the sunken eye, Or madness shrieks from the fevered brain; Oh! watch, as the angels watch above, Oh! pray for them as the angels pray; Bring heart and hand to the labor of love— Turn not away.