“ Learned of 
Italy’s Acanthus, the arts 
■Which Corinth claims.” — Milton. 
AET. 
■When, from the sacred garden driven, 
Man fled before his Maker’s -wrath. 
An angel left her place in heaven. 
And crossed the wanderer’s sunless path. 
’T was Art ! sweet Art! New radiance broke 
■Where her bright foot flew o’er the ground. 
And thus -with seraph -voice she spoke: 
“ The curse a blessing shall be found.” 
She led him through the trackless -wUd, 
■Where noontide’s sunbeam never blazed | 
The thistle shrank, the harvest smiled. 
And Nature gladdened as she gazed. 
Earth’s thousand tribes of li-ving things. 
At Art’s command to him are given j 
The village grows, the city springs. 
And point their spires of faith to heaven. 
Charles Spraqhb. 
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