Sonnet Written after Seeing Wilton House

Thomas Warton

FROM Pembroke’s princely dome, where mimic art

Decks with a magic hand the dazzling bowers,

Its living hues where the warm pencil pours,

And breathing forms from the rude marble start,

How to life’s humbler scene can I depart?

My breast all glowing from those gorgeous towers,

In my low cell how cheat the sullen hours!

Vain the complaint; for fancy can impart

(To fate superior, and to fortune’s doom)

Whate’er adorns the stately-storied hall:

She, mid the dungeon’s solitary gloom,

Can dress the graces in their Attic pall,

Bid the green landskip’s vernal beauty bloom,

And in bright trophies clothe the twilight wall.