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Had thilke fame tale in other guise been tolde ; Had they been young (pardie) and she been olde; That, by St. Kit, had wrought much sorer trial ; Full marveillous, I vote, were filk denyal.
A FLOWER PAINTED BY SIMON VAREL ST.
W H EN fam'd Varelft this little wonder drew,
Flora vouchsaf’d the growing work to view : Finding the painter's science at a stand, The goddess fnatch'd the pencil from his hand; And, finishing the piece, she smiling said, Behold one work of mine, that ne'er fall fade.
AFTERWARDS MARCHIONESS OF CARMARTHEN.
ON A COLUMN OF HER DRAWING.
HEN future ages shall with wonder view
These glorious lines, which Harley's daughter
They shall confess, that Britain could not raise
A fairer column to the Father's praise.
W H EN poets wrote, and painters drew,
As Nature pointed out the view ;
Ere Gothick forms were known in Greece
To spoil the well-proportion’d piece ;
And in our verse ere monkish rhymes
Had jangled their fantastic chimes :
Ere on the flowery 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, historians note,
Liv'd there, a burgess, scot and lot ;
And, as old Pliny's writings show,
Apelles did the same at Co.,
Agreed these points of time and place,
Proceed we in the present case.
Piqu’d by Protogenes's fame,
From Co to Rhodes Apelles came,
To fee a rival and a friend,
Prepar'd to censure, or commend;
Here to absolve, and there object,
As art with candour might direct.
He fails, he lands, he comes, he rings;
His servants follow with the things :
Appears the governante of th' house ;
For such in Greece were much in use :
If young or handsome, yea or no,
Concerns not me or thee to know.
Does Squire Protogenes live here?
Yes, Sir, says she, with gracious air,
And court’sey low, but just calld out
By lords peculiarly devout,
Who came on purpose, Siř, to borrow
Our Venus for the feast to-morrow,
To grace the church ; 'tis Venus' day:
I hope, Sir, you intend to ftay,
To see 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 some twenty ages after ; Authors, before they write, should read. 'Tis very true; but we'll proceed.
And, Sir, at present would you please To leave your name–Fair maiden, yes. Reach me that board. No sooner 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 shew your master this from me?
By it he presently will know .
How painters write their names at Co.
He gave the pannel to the maid.
Smiling and court'sying, Sir, she faid,
I shall not fail to tell my master :
And, Sir, for fear of all disaster,
I'll keep it my ownself : safe bind,
Says the old proverb, and safe find.
So, Sir, as sure as key or lock-
Your servant, Sir,—at fix o'clock.
Again at fix Apelles came,
Found the same prating civil dame.
Sir, that my master has been here,
Will by the board itself appear.
If from the perfect line be found
He has presum'd to swell the round,
Or colours on the draught to lay,
"Tis thus (he order'd me to say),
Thus write the painters of this ifle :
Let those of Co remark the style.
She said ; and to his hand restor'd
The rival pledge, the missive board.
Upon the happy line were laid
Such obvious light, and easy shade,
That Paris' apple stood confest,
Or Leda's egg, or Cloe's breast.
Apelles view'd the finish'd piece :
And live, said 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 truest drew, or colour'd best,
When he beheld my flowing line,
He found at least I could design:
And from his artful round, I grant
That he with perfect skill can paint.
The dullest genius cannot fail
To find the moral of my tale ;
That the distinguish'd part of men,
With compass, pencil, sword, or pen,
Should in life's visit leave their name,
In characters which may proclaim
That they with ardour strove to raise
At once their arts, and country's praise ;
And in their working took great care,
That all was full, and round, and fair.
DEMOCRITUS AND HERACLITUS.
EMOCRITUS, dear droll, revisit earth,
And with our follies glut thy heighten'd mirth: Sad Heraclitus, serious wretch, return, In louder grief our greater crimes to mourn. Between you both I unconcern'd stand by : Hurt, can I laugh! and honest, need I cry?