Yonder 's a work now, of that jfamous youth
The Urbinate who died five years ago.
(*Ti8 copied, George Vasari sent it me.)
Well, I can hncy how he did \t AY,



40 MEN AND WOMEN.
Pouring his soul, with kings and popes to see.
Reaching, that heaven might so replenish him.
Above and through his art — for it gives way ; no

That arm is wrongly put — and there again —

A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines.
Its body, so to speak : its soul is right.
He means right — that, a child may understand.
Still, what an arm ! and I could alter it :

But all the play, the insight and the stretch —

Out of me, out of me ! And wherefore out ?

Had you enjoined them on me, given me soul.
We might have risen to Rafael, I and you !

Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I think — 1 20

More than I merit, yes, by many times.
But had you — oh, with the same perfect brow.
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth.
And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird

The fowler's pipe, and follows to the snare —

Had you, with these the same, but brought a mind !

Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged

" God and the glory ! never care for gain.
The present by the fixture, what is that ?

Live for feme, side by side with Agnolo ! 1 30

Rafael is waiting : up to God, all three !"

I might have done it for you. So it seems :

Perhaps not. All is as God over-rules.
