Dreams of Enamel

In the dark chamber roars the athanor,
Whose brick-cased fire, in ardent, glowing state,
Breathes on the copper till it there will mate
With gold's own splendor from enamel's store.

Beneath my brushes are born, live, run and soar
Mythology's rare race: Bacchus' wild fete,
Chimaera, Centaurs, Sphinx, and Pan the great,
With Gorgon, Pegasus and Chrysaor.

Shall I now paint Achilles weeping near
Penthesilea? Orpheus' banished dear
For whom the infernal gate will ne'er relent?

Hercules confounding the Avernian hound,
Or Virgin at the cavern's outer bound
With writhing body which the Dragons scent?