Damn description, it is always disgusting.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'t is gone, and all is gray.

This sort of adoration of the real is but a heightening of the beau ideal.

Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain

From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. . . . . The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.

[Armenian] is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it.