Behoveth neet to wreck my brain,
The reft in order to explain.
That cup-board, where the mice disport,
I liken to St. Stephen's court:
Therein is space enough, I trow,
For elke comrade to come and goe:
And therein eke may both be fed
With fhiver of the wheaten bread.
And when, as these mine eyen survey,
They cease to skip, and squeak and play;
Return they may to diff'rent cells,
Auditing one, whilft t'other Tells.
Dear Robert, quoth the Saint, whose mind,
In bounteous deed no mean can bind;
Now as I hope to grow devout,
I deem this matter well made out.
Laugh I, whilft thus I serious pray?
Let that be wrought which Mat. doth say:
Yea, quoth the ERLE, but not to-day.
ULL oft doth Mat. with Topaz dine,
Eateth bak'd meats, drinketh Greek wine;
But Topaz his own werke rehearseth;
And Mat. mote praise what Topaz verseth.
Now fure as priest did e'er shrive sinner,
Full hardly earneth Mat. his dinner.
AIR Sufan did her wif-hede well menteine. Algates affaulted fore by letchours tweine: Now, and I read aright that auncient fong, Olde were the paramours, the dame full young.
Had thilke fame tale in other guife been tolde; Had they been young (pardie) and she been olde: That, by St. Kit, had wrought much forer tryal; Full merveillous, I wote, were fwilk denyal.
AFLOWER painted by SIMON VARelst.
WHEN fam'd Varelst this little wonder drew;
Flora vouchsaf'd the growing work to view:
Finding the painter's science at a stand,
The goddess snatch'd the pencil from his hand;
And finishing the piece, the fmiling said:
Behold one work of mine, that ne'er shall fade.
To the Lady ELIZABETH HARLEY,
fince Marchioness of CARMARTHEN,
on a column of ber drawing.
"HEN future ages fhall with wonder view
These glorious lines, which Harley's daughter
They fhall confefs that Britain could not raise
A fairer column to the father's praise.
THEN poets wrote, and painters drew,
As nature pointed out the view:
Ere Gothic forms were known in Greece,
To spoil the well-proportion'd piece:
And in our verse ere monkish rhimes
Had jangl'd their fantastic chimes :
Ere on the flow'ry lands of Rhodes
Those knights had fix'd their dull abodes,
Who knew not much to paint or write,
Nor car'd to pray, nor dar'd to fight:
Protogenes, hiftorians note,
Liv'd there, a burgess scot and lot;
And, as old Pliny's writings fhow,
Apelles did the fame at Co.
Agreed these points of time and place,
Proceed we in the present case.
Picqu'd by Protogenes's fame,
From Co to Rhodes Apelles came;
To fee a rival and a friend,
Prepar'd to cenfure, or commend,
Here to abfolve, and there object,
As art with candor might direct.
He fails, he lands, he comes, he rings:
His fervants follow with the things:
Appears the governante of th' houfe:
For fuch in Greece were much in ufe:
If young or handsome, yea or no,
Concerns not me, or thee to know.
Does 'Squire Protegenes live here?
Yes, Sir, fays fhe with gracious air,
And curt'fey low; but just call'd out
By lords peculiarly devout;
Who came on purpose, Sir, to borrow
Our Venus, for the feast to-morrow.
To grace the church: 'tis Venus' day:
I hope, Sir, you intend to stay,
To fee our Venus: 'tis the piece
The most renown'd throughout all Greece,
So like th' original, they say:
But I have no great skill that way.
But, Sir, at fix ('tis now past three)
Dromo must make my master's tea :
At fix, Sir, if you please to come,
You'll find my master, Sir, at home.
Tea, says a critic big with laughter,
Was found fome twenty ages after:
Authors, before they write, fhou'd read.
'Tis very true: but we'll proceed.
And, Sir, at present wou'd you please To leave your name
Reach me that board. No fooner spoke
But done. With one judicious stroke,
On the plain ground Apelles drew
A circle regularly true;
And will you please, sweet heart, said he,
To fhew your mafter this from me?
By it he prefently will know,
How painters write their names at Co.
He gave the pannel to the maid.
Smiling and curt'fing, Sir, fhe faid,
I fhall not fail to tell my master:
And, Sir, for fear of all disaster,
I'll keep it my own felf: safe bind,
Says the old proverb, and safe find.
So, Sir, as fure as key or lock-
Your fervant Sir- at fix a clock.
Again at fix Apelles came;
Found the fame prating civil dame.
Sir, that my master has been here,
Will by the board itself appear.
If from the perfect line he found,
He has prefum'd to fwell the round,
Or colours on the draught to lay';
'Tis thus (he order'd me to fay)
Thus write the painters of this ifle:
Let those of Co remark the ftyle."
She faid; and to his hand restor'd
The rival pledge, the miffive board.
Upon the happy line were laid
Such obvious light, and easie shade;
That Paris' apple stood confeft.
Or Leda's cgg. or Cloe's breast.
Apelles view'd the finish'd piece;
And live, faid he, the arts of Greece!
Howe'er Protogenes and I
May in our rival talents vie;
Howe'er our works may have express'd,
Who trueft drew, or colour'd beft;
When he beheld my flowing line;
He found at least I could defign:
And from his artful round, I grant,
That he with perfect skill can paint.
The dulleft Genius cannot fail
To find the moral of my tale :
That the distinguish'd part of men,
With compass, pencil, fword, or pen,
Shou'd in life's vifit leave their name,
In characters, which may proclaim,
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