1–2 minutes
An oily half-light;
a rare and fortunate weather.
The first consul
rears his mount
In defiance
of gneiss and paint.
How different
To the Elder Habsburg,
who ground Elector John
Back into the realism
of Cranach (and his son).
That shadow of a steed,
In the old Venetian’s gift of moment,
could strike off
Into
a canter –
Tread, with discipline,
two dying styles.
Titians’s demand, his red lake, ages
as Corvina: imported;
As Velvet.
[Vin jaune pantalon
are but a horse shoe
To Napoleon].
Image credit: Jacques Louis David’s “Napoleon Crossing the Alps”
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