DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0105
THE BOISSEReE GALLERY IN THE PINAKOTHEK.
97
Then, as we advance farther along the gallery of cabinets,
descending nearer and nearer to our modern world, what a
flutter meets us of rainbow-tinted wings, whose plumes are
stolen from peacocks, doves, and parrots ! Now we en-
counter fabulous scaly, green, scarlet, and azure dra-
gons ; but gallant youthful knights and angels, clad in
armour dazzling and golden, are at hand with glittering
spears and swords to slay the monsters. Ambrosial locks
fly in the wind, a vigorous arm brandishes the keen spear,
a mailed foot is planted upon the grisly dragon !—he is
writhing in his death agony ! And how one is bewildered
by the stiff embroidered robes of priests, warriors, and
ladies,—robes gorgeous with every burning tint, and spark-
hug with every gem—jewel-encrusted are mitres, crosiers,
copes and stoles, ladies’ stomachers, and warriors’ breast-
plates. What wealth in golden and crystal goblets, in
dagger-hilts and golden crucifixes ! In what silent, old,
wainscotted rooms do we not repose ourselves—what shady
courts or crowded quaint city streets do we not gaze into
through round-arched windows, sitting upon scarlet-
cushioned window-seats, and breathing the perfumed breath
of some tall white lily rising out of a crystal or golden
vase! And do we not hear the soft lisping of saints breath-
ing their prayers as they bend over missals lying open
upon carved ebony reading-desks! and do we not even
hear the silvery tones from St. Cecilia’s golden organ,
as she touches its keys with her taper fingers, and
tiny angels hover around, wafting her garlanded brow with
their small wings and fluttering azure and rose-coloured
draperies !
And above all, do not our spirits take flight through the most
lovely of landscapes ! through scenes such as one alone sees
in dreams, or in these old pictures, across the most verdant
VOL. II. H
97
Then, as we advance farther along the gallery of cabinets,
descending nearer and nearer to our modern world, what a
flutter meets us of rainbow-tinted wings, whose plumes are
stolen from peacocks, doves, and parrots ! Now we en-
counter fabulous scaly, green, scarlet, and azure dra-
gons ; but gallant youthful knights and angels, clad in
armour dazzling and golden, are at hand with glittering
spears and swords to slay the monsters. Ambrosial locks
fly in the wind, a vigorous arm brandishes the keen spear,
a mailed foot is planted upon the grisly dragon !—he is
writhing in his death agony ! And how one is bewildered
by the stiff embroidered robes of priests, warriors, and
ladies,—robes gorgeous with every burning tint, and spark-
hug with every gem—jewel-encrusted are mitres, crosiers,
copes and stoles, ladies’ stomachers, and warriors’ breast-
plates. What wealth in golden and crystal goblets, in
dagger-hilts and golden crucifixes ! In what silent, old,
wainscotted rooms do we not repose ourselves—what shady
courts or crowded quaint city streets do we not gaze into
through round-arched windows, sitting upon scarlet-
cushioned window-seats, and breathing the perfumed breath
of some tall white lily rising out of a crystal or golden
vase! And do we not hear the soft lisping of saints breath-
ing their prayers as they bend over missals lying open
upon carved ebony reading-desks! and do we not even
hear the silvery tones from St. Cecilia’s golden organ,
as she touches its keys with her taper fingers, and
tiny angels hover around, wafting her garlanded brow with
their small wings and fluttering azure and rose-coloured
draperies !
And above all, do not our spirits take flight through the most
lovely of landscapes ! through scenes such as one alone sees
in dreams, or in these old pictures, across the most verdant
VOL. II. H