canvas, 70.3 × 48.3 cm.
Manchester City Art Galleries, Manchester.
Ode to Cassandra
Darling, come with me and behold
Whether the rose I saw unfold
For the new sun her crimson gown,
Has not this evening to lament
The loss of all her red raiment,
And colour lovely as your own.
Eros Delivering Psyche
Edward Burne-Jones, 1867.
Gouache, 80 × 91.4 cm.
Hammersmith and Fulham Archives and Local History Centre, London.
Ah! Darling, see how soon, alas!
She loosed her treasures on the grass
Letting them fall on every side!
Nature is well named step-mother
When such a flower unloved by her
Lasts but from morn till even-tide!
Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss
Antonio Canova, 1787–1793.
Marble, 155 × 168 × 101 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.
Therefore, if you believe me, Dear,
The while your life may still appear
Clad in the greenest for its dress,
Gather, O gather all your Youth:
For Age, who showed the rose no ruth
Even so will dim your loveliness.
Galatea
Gustave Moreau, 1880.
Oil on wood panel, 85 × 67 cm.
Musée d’Orsay, Paris.
Ofttimes I have this strange and penetrating dream:
An unknown woman whom I love and who loves me,
And who, though never changing, ever seems to be
Another —
In whose eyes I see a well known gleam.
She understands. My heart that doth transparent seem
For her alone, alas, ceases also to be
For her, alone, a problem; and her tears fall free
Upon my pallid brow, refreshing as a stream.
Pygmalion and the Image: The Hand Refrains
Edward Burne-Jones, 1875–1878.
Oil on canvas, 99.1 × 76.2 cm.
Museum and Art Gallery, Birmingham.
Brunette, or blonde, or Titian-haired? I do not know!
Her name? ‘Twas sweet I weel recall when spoken low,
As sweet as those beloved ones by Life exiled.
Her glance is that of statues – looks that vaguely thrill —
And her voice – calm, faintly sounding, gravely mild
It hath the echo of dear voices long since still.
Pygmalion and the Image: The Soul Attains
Edward Burne-Jones, 1875–1878.
Oil on canvas, 99.1 × 76.2 cm.
Museums and Art Gallery, Birmingham.
Oh, rapturous martyrdom! ravishing pain!
Oh, infinite anguish and bliss!
With her horrible talons she wounded me,
While she thrilled my soul with a kiss.
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