Love. Jp. A. Calosse

yet my spirit found such cause to grieve

      As now in leaving thee: and if thy thought

      Of me in absence should be sorrow-fraught,

      Oft will my heart repentant turn to thee,

      Dwelling, in fruitless wishes, on this spot,

      And all the gracious words here said to me.

      Jupiter and Io

      Correggio (Antonio Allegri), 1531.

      Oil on canvas, 163.5 × 70 cm.

      Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

      O gracious God! to thee I bend my knee,

      For thy sake yielding all I love and prize;

      And O how mighty must that influence be,

      That steals me thus from all my cherish’d joys!

      Here, ready, then, myself surrendering,

      Prepared to serve thee, I submit; and ne’er

      To one so faithful could I service bring,

      So kind a master, so beloved and dear.

      The Rape of Europa

      Francesco Albani, 1639.

      Oil on canvas, 76.3 × 97 cm.

      Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence.

      And strong my ties – my grief unspeakable!

      Grief, all my choicest treasures to resign;

      Yet stronger still the affections that impel

      My heart toward Him, the God whose love is mine.

      That holy love, how beautiful! how strong!

      Even wisdom’s favourite sons take refuge there;

      “Tis the redeeming gem that shines among

      Men’s darkest thoughts – for ever bright and fair.

Guido Guinicelli (c. 1240–1274)

      Europa

      Titian (Tiziano Vecellio), 1559–1562.

      Oil on canvas, 185 × 205 cm.

      Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.

      She Walks in Beauty

      She walks in beauty, like the night

      Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

      And all that’s best of dark and bright

      Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

      Thus mellowed to that tender light

      Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

      Flora and Zephyr

      Jacopo Amigoni, 1748.

      Oil on canvas, 213.4 × 147.3 cm.

      The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

      One shade the more, one ray the less,

      Had half impaired the nameless grace

      Which waves in every raven tress,

      Or softly lightens o’er her face;

      Where thoughts serenely sweet express

      How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

      The Wedding of Bacchus and Ariane

      Jan Brueghel the Elder and Hendrick Van Balen, after 1608.

      Oil on copper, 36.5 × 51.5 cm.

      Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Dresden.

      And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

      So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

      The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

      But tell of days in goodness spent,

      A mind at peace with all below,

      A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron (1788–1824)

      Leda and the Swan

      Correggio (Antonio Allegri), c. 1531–1532.

      Oil on canvas.

      Gemäldegalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin.

      Katharine

      We see you as we see a face

      That trembles in a forest place

      Upon the mirror of a pool

      Forever quiet, clear, and cool;

      And in the wayward glass appears

      To hover between smiles and tears,

      Elfin and human, airy and true,

      And backed by the reflected blue.

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–1894)

      Jupiter and Callisto

      Peter Paul Rubens, 1613.

      Oil on canvas, 202 × 305 cm.

      Gemäldegalerie, Kassel.

      Believe me…

      Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

      Which I gaze on so fondly today,

      Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms,

      Like fairy-gifts fading away,

      Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

      Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

      And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

      Would entwine itself verdantly still.

      Danaë

      Titian (Tiziano Vecellio), 1544–1546.

      Oil on canvas, 118.5 × 170 cm.

      Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples.

      It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

      And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

      That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,

      To which time will but make thee more dear;

      No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

      But as truly loves on to the close,

      As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,

      The same look which she turn’d when he rose.

Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

      Mademoiselle Lange as Danaë

      Anne-Louis Girodet, 1799.

      Oil on canvas, 60.3 × 48.6 cm.

      Minneapolis Institute of Arts,