In: Piero di Cosimo
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The mountain quickens into Nymph and Faun;And here an Oread – how the sun delightsTo glance and shift about her slippery sides,… – who this way runs Before the rest – A satyr, a satyr, see,Follows; but him I proved impossible;Twy-natured is no nature: yet he drawsNearer and nearer, and I scan him nowBeastlier than any phantom of his kindThat ever butted his rough brother-bruteFor lust or lusty blood or provender …Alfred Lord Tennyson, from ‘Lucretius’ (1868)⸪

Piero di Cosimo

Painter of Faith and Fable



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