Di persona era tanto ben formata, Quanto mai finger san pittori industri, he proves himself to have had a complete knowledge of the laws of perspective, such as only the most industrious artist can acquire from a study of nature and of ancient art.[131] In the words,— Spargeasi per la guancia delicata Misto color di rose e di ligustri, he may show himself to be a perfect master of color,—a very Titian.[132] His comparing Alcina’s hair to gold, instead of calling it golden hair, may be taken as proof that he objected to the use of actual gold in coloring.[133] We may even discover in the descending nose the profile of those old Greek noses, afterwards borrowed by Roman artists from the Greek masterpieces.[134] Of what use is all this insight and learning to us readers who want to fancy we are looking at a beautiful woman, and desire to feel that gentle quickening of the pulses which accompanies the sight of actual beauty? The poet may know the relations from which beauty springs, but does that make us know them? Or, if we know them, does he show them to us here? or does he help us in the least to call up a vivid image of them? A brow that forms a fitting bound, Che lo spazio finia con giusta meta; A nose where envy itself finds nothing to amend, Che non trova l’ invidia, ove l’ emende; A hand, narrow, and somewhat long, Lunghetta alquanto, e di larghezza angusta; what sort of a picture do these general formulæ give us? In the mouth of a drawing-master, directing his pupils’ attention to the beauties of the academic model, they might have some meaning. For the students would have but to look at the model to see the fitting bounds of the gay forehead, the fine cut of the nose, and the slenderness of the pretty hand. But in the poem I see nothing, and am only tormented by the futility of all my attempts to see any thing. In this respect Virgil, by imitating Homer’s reticence, has achieved tolerable success. His Dido is only the most beautiful (_pulcherrima_) Dido. Any further details which he may give, have reference to her rich ornaments and magnificent dress. Tandem progreditur ... Sidoniam picto chlamydem circumdata limbo: Cui pharetra ex auro, crines nodantur in aurum, Aurea purpuream subnectit fibula vestem.[135] If, on this account, any should apply to him what the old artist said to one of his pupils who had painted a gayly decked Helen,—“Since you could not paint her beautiful, you have painted her rich,”—Virgil would answer: “I am not to blame that I could not paint her beautiful. The fault lies in the limits of my art, within which it is my merit to have kept.”