The Death of HyacinthusGiovanni Battista Tiepolo (Italian; 1696–1770)ca. 1752–53Oil on canvas Museo
The Death of HyacinthusGiovanni Battista Tiepolo (Italian; 1696–1770)ca. 1752–53Oil on canvas Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid, SpainO thou art gone, my boy, Apollo cry’d, Defrauded of thy youth in all its pride! Thou, once my joy, art all my sorrow now; And to my guilty hand my grief I owe. Yet from my self I might the fault remove, Unless to sport, and play, a fault should prove, Unless it too were call’d a fault to love. Oh cou’d I for thee, or but with thee, dye! But cruel Fates to me that pow’r deny. Yet on my tongue thou shalt for ever dwell; Thy name my lyre shall sound, my verse shall tell; And to a flow’r transform’d, unheard-of yet, Stamp’d on thy leaves my cries thou shalt repeat. (Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book X; translated by Sir Samuel Garth, John Dryden, et al.) -- source link
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