They trace the bright impressions of his hand: In earth or air, the meadow's purple stores, The moon's mild radiance, or the virgin's form Blooming with rosy smiles, they see portray'd That uncreated beauty, which delights The Mind Supreme. They also feel her charms, Enamour'd; they partake the eternal joy. For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch 110 Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string Consenting, sounded through the warbling air Unbidden strains, even so did Nature's hand To certain species of external things, Attune the finer organs of the mind; So the glad impulse of congenial powers, Or of sweet sound, or fair proportion'd form, The grace of motion, or the bloom of light, Thrills through Imagination's tender frame, From nerve to nerve; all naked and alive 120 They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul At length discloses every tuneful spring, To that harmonious movement from without Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, And vales of bliss: the intellectual power Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, And smiles: the passions, gently soothed away, Sink to divine repose, and love and joy 130 Alone are waking; love and joy, serene As airs that fan the summer. Oh! attend, Whoe'er thou art, whom these delights can touch, Whose candid bosom the refining love Of Nature warms, oh! listen to my song; And I will guide thee to her favourite walks, And teach thy solitude her voice to hear, And point her loveliest features to thy view. Know then, whate'er of Nature's pregnant stores, Whate'er of mimic Art's reflected forms 140 With love and admiration thus inflame The powers of Fancy, her delighted sons To three illustrious orders have referr'd; Three sister graces, whom the painter's hand, The poet's tongue confesses--the Sublime, The Wonderful, the Fair. I see them dawn! I see the radiant visions, where they rise, More lovely than when Lucifer displays His beaming forehead through the gates of morn, To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring. 150