of islands rent from their foundations and meeting in the ocean. He knew the comparison was forced beyond nature, and raised too high; he therefore softens the metaphor with a credas. You would almost believe that mountains or islands rushed against each other: Credas innare revulsas Cycladas; aut montes concurrere montibus æquos. But here I must break off without finishing the dis course. "Cynthius aurem vellit, et admonuit, &c." the things which are behind are of too nice a consideration for an essay begun and ended in twelve mornings; and perhaps the judges of Painting and Poetry, when I tell them how short a time it cost me, may make me the same answer which my late Lord Rochester made to one, who, to commend a tragedy, said, it was written in three weeks: "How the Devil could he be so long about it? for that Poem was infamously bad," and I doubt this Parallel is little better; and then the shortness of the time is so far from being a commendation, that it is scarcely an excuse. But if I have really drawn a portrait to the knees, or an half-length with a tolerable likeness, then I may plead with some justice for myself, that the rest is left to the imagination. Let some better Artist provide himself of a deeper canvass; and taking these hints which I have given, set the figure on its legs, and finish it in the Invention, Design, and Colouring. The following elegant Epistle has constantly been prefixed to all the Editions of DU FRESNOY, which have been published since JERVAS corrected the translation of DRYDEN. It is, therefore, here reprinted, in order that a Poem which does so much honour to the original Author may still accompany his work, although the Translator is but too conscious how much so masterly a piece of versification on the subject of Painting, will, by being brought thus near it, prejudice his own lines. M. то MR. JERVAS WITH FRESNOY'S ART OF PAINTING, TRANSLATED BY MR. DRYDEN.* THIS verse be thine, my Friend, nor thou refuse Whether thy hand strike out some free design, Smit with the love of sister arts we came, And met congenial, mingling flame with flame; * First printed in 1716. Like friendly colours found them both unite, And each from each contract new strength and light. How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the day, While summer suns roll unperceiv'd away? How oft our slowly-growing works impart, How oft review; each finding like a friend, Something to blame, and something to commend? What flatt'ring scenes our wand'ring fancy wrought, Rome's pompous glories rising to our thought! With thee, on Raffaelle's monument I mourn, Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's urn: How finish'd with illustrious toil appears This small, well-polish'd gem, the work of years! * * Fresnoy employed above twenty years in finishing this Poem. |