Matthew Arnold - Rachel: II lyrics

Unto a lonely villa, in a dell Above the fragrant warm Provençal shore, The dying Rachel in a chair they bore Up the steep pine-plumed paths of the Estrelle, And laid her in a stately room, where fell The shadow of a marble Muse of yore, The rose-crown'd queen of legendary lore, Polymnia, full on her d**h-bed.—'Twas well! The fret and misery of our northern towns, In this her life's last day, our poor, our pain, Our jangle of false wits, our climate's frowns, Do for this radiant Greek-soul'd artist cease; Sole object of her dying eyes remain The beauty and the glorious art of Greece.