15 AUGUST 1903, Page 19

POETRY.

IN THE TATE GALLERY : TO G. F. WATTS, R.A.

HE came, and all the world stood still to gaze.

The heights of fame impregnable he won: His word awoke the pyramids, his sun Scattered at Austerlitz the jealous haze.

What though beyond the crowning hundred days Looms sunset on the ship Bellerophon,' At least he left a name—Napoleon; At least he shook the thrones and had the praise.

Dear painter, of the consecrated art, Not yours the noisy fame, the glittering prize : Only the common men and women part From yonder room, which holds your victories, Guarding a little gladness in the eyes And reverence born of beauty in the heart.

HUGH MACNAGHTEN.