Lucrece (Modern)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece
¶Of skillful painting, made for Priam's Troy,
¶Before the which is drawn the power of Greece,
¶For Helen's rape, the city to destroy,
1370Threat'ning cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy,
¶Which the conceited painter drew so proud
¶As heaven, it seemed, to kiss the turrets bowed.
¶A thousand lamentable objects there,
¶In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life.
1375Many a dry drop seemed a weeping tear
¶Shed for the slaughtered husband by the wife.
¶The red blood reeked to show the painter's strife,
¶And dying eyes gleamed forth their ashy lights
¶Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.
1380There might you see the laboring pioneer
¶Begrimed with sweat and smearèd all with dust;
¶And from the towers of Troy, there would appear
¶The very eyes of men through loopholes thrust,
¶Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust.
1385Such sweet observance in this work was had
¶That one might see those far-off eyes look sad.
¶In great commanders, grace and majesty
¶You might behold, triumphing in their faces;
¶In youth, quick bearing and dexterity;
1390And here and there the painter interlaces
¶Pale cowards marching on with trembling paces,
¶Which heartless peasants did so well resemble
¶That one would swear he saw them quake and tremble.
