Chapter 1669 of 1964 · 65 words · ~1 min read

XL.

Or like a flying Hour before Aurora, In Guido's famous fresco[715] (which alone Is worth a tour to Rome, although no more a Remnant were there of the old World's sole throne): The "_tout ensemble_" of his movements wore a Grace of the soft Ideal, seldom shown, And ne'er to be described; for to the dolour Of bards and prosers, words are void of colour.