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Yet still thy smiles in breathing paint inspire, Excessive beauty, like a flash of light, Still thy kind glances set my soul on fire. Seems more to weaken, than to please the sight. Thither each hour I lift my thoughtful eye, In one gay thought luxuriant Ovid writ, Now drop a tear, now softly breathe a sigh; And Voiture tires us, but with too much wit. Sacred 'till death my gentlest vows shall be, Some all their value for grotesque express, And the last gasp of life be breath'd for thee! Beauty thev prize, but beauty in excess :
You too, O Sculpture, shall exalt my lays, Where each gay figure seems to glare apart, Pictura's sister-candidate for praise !
Without due grace, proportion, shades, or arte Soft Raphael's air divine, Antonio " shows; (The sad remains of Goths in ancient times, And all Le Brun in mimic Picart '' glows. And rev'rend dulness, and religious rhymes) Hither ye nations, now direct your eyes, So youthful poets ring their music round Rise crown'd with lustre, gentle Albion rise! On one eternal harmony of sound. Now thy soft Hollar, now thy Smith appears, “ The lines are gay," and whosoe'er pretends A faultless pattern to succeeding years;
To search for more, mistakes the writer's ends. There sacred domes ' in length’ning vistas Colours, like words, with equal care are sought, charm,
These please the sight, and those express the And British beauties here for ever warm.
thought, Most painters, of less judgment than caprice, But most of all, the landscape seems to please Are like old maidens infamously nice:
With calm repose, and rural images. It matters nought if rules be false or true, See, in due lights th' obedient objects stand, All shou'd be modish, whimsical and new; As happy ease exalts the master's hand. Pond of each change, the present still they praise, See, absent rocks hang trembling in the sky, So women love and actors purchase plays. See, distant mountains vanish from the eye; As if self-love, or popular offence,
A darker verdure stains the dusky woods ; Receiv'd a sanction to mislead our sense; Floats the green shadow in the silver floods; Or party-notions, vapours, faith, and zeal Fair visionary worlds surprise the view, Were all, at proper times, infallible.
And fancy forms the golden age a-new. True wit, and true religion are but one,
True just designs will merit honour still; Tho' some pervert 'em, and ev'n most have none. Who begins well, can scarcely finish ill. Who thinks what others never thought before, Unerring truth must guide your hand aright, Acts but just that his sons will act no more. Art without this is violence to sight. Yet on a time, when vig'rous thoughts demand, The first duc postures of each figure trace Indulge a warmth, and prompt the daring hand : In swelling out-lines with an easy grace. On purpose deviate from the laws of art, But the prime person mostly will demand And boldly dare to captivate the heart;
Th' unweary'd touches of thy patient hand : Breasts warm'd to rapture shall applaud your fire, There thought, and boldness, strength, and art May disapprove you, but shall still admire.
conspire, The Grecian artist at one dash supply'd The critic's judgment, and the painter's fire ; What patient touches, and slow art deny'd. It lives, it moves, it swells to meet the eve: So when pale Florio in the gloomy grove
Behind, the mingling groupes in softer shadows Sits sadly musing on the plagues of love,
die. When hopes and fears distract his tim'rous mind, Never with self-design your merits raise, And fancy only makes the uymph unkind: Nor let your tongue be echo to your praise. Desp'rate at last he rushes from the shade, To wiser heads commit such points as these, By force and warm address to win the maid: A modest blush will tell how much they please. His brisk attack the melting nymph receives In days of yore, a prating lad, they say, With equal warmth, he presses, she forgives; Met glorious Reubens jourveying on the way: One moment crowns wbole tedious years of pain, Sneering, and arch he shakes his empty head, And endless griefs, and health consum'd in vain. (For half-learn'd boys will talk a Solon dead)
Of ev'ry beauty that conspires to charm “Your servant,good sir Paul,why,what, the devil, Man's nicer judgment, and bis genius warm, The world to you is more than fairly civil; To just invention be the glory giv'n,
No life, no gusto in your pieces shine, A particle of light deriv'd from Heav'n.
Without decorum, as without design"Upnumber'd rules t' improve the gift are shown Sedate to this the Heav'n-born artist smild, By ev'ry critic, to procure it, none.
“ Nor thine, nor mine to speak our praise, my Some colours often to the rest impart
child ! New grace“, more thro' happiness, than art. Each shall expose his best to curious eyes, This, nicely study'd, will your fame advance, And let th' impartial world adjust the prize." The greatest beauties seldom come by chance. Let the soft colours sweeten and unite
Some gaze at ornament alone, and then To one just form, as all were skade, or light. So value paint, as women value men.
Nothing so frequent charms th' admiring eyes It matters nought to talk of truth, or grace, As well tim'd fancy, and a sweet surprise. Religion, genius, customs, time, and place. So when the Grecian 13 labour'd to disclose So judge the vain, and young; nor envy we: His nicest art, a mimic lark arose: They cannot think indeed—but they may see. The fellow-birds in circles round it play'd,
Knew their own kind, and warbled to a shade. 11 Two engravers, famous for their prints copied from Raphael and Le Brun.
13 See Pliny's Natural History, lib. 35. cape 12 Alluding to Hollar's Etchings in the Mo
So Vandervaart in later times excell'd,
Yet ah, how soon the casual bliss decays, And nature liv'd in what our eyes beheld. How great the pains, how transient is the praise! He too can oft (in optics deeply read)
Language, frail Aow'r, is in a moment lost, A noon-day darkness o'er his chamber spread : ' (That only pruduct human wit can boast) The transient objects sudden as they pass Now gay in youth, its early honours rise, O'er the small convex of the visual glass, Now hated, curst, it fades away, and dies. Transferr'd from thence by magic's pow'rful call, Yet verse first rose to soften human kind, Shine in quick glories on the gloomy wall;
To mend their manners, and exalt their mind. Groves, mountains, rivers, men surprise the See, savage beasts stand listning to the lay, sight,
(wavy light. And men more furious, and more wild than theys Trembles the dancing world, and swims the Ev'n shapeless trees a second birth receive, Each varying figure in due place dispose is,
Rocks move to form, and statues seem to live. These boldly heighten, touch but faintly those.
Immortal Homer felt the sacred rage, Contigorous objects place with judgment nigh, And pious Orpheus taught a barb'rous age; Each due proportion swelling on the eye.
Succeeding painters thence deriv'd their light, Remoter views insensibly decay,
And durst no more than those vouchsaf'd to write. And lights, and shadows sweetly drop away.
At last t'adorn the gentler arts, appears In bluish white the farthest mounts arise,
Illustrious Zenxis from a length of years. Steal from the eye, and melt into the skies.
Parrhasius' hand with soft’oing strokes exprest Hence sacred domes in length'ning ailes extend, | The nervous motions, and the folded vest: Round columns swell, and rising arches bend : Pregnant of life his rounded figures rise, Obliquer views in side-long vistas glance, With strong relievo swelling on the eyes. And bending groves in fancy seem to dance. Evenor bold, with fair Apelles came,
Two equal lights descending from the sky, And happy Nicias crown'd with deathless fame. O'erpow'r each other, and confuse the eye. At length from Greece, of impious arms afraid,
The greatest pleasures tire the most, and such Painting withdrew, and sought th’ Italian shade; Still end in vices if enjoy'd too much.
What tiine each science met its due regard, Tho' painters often to the shades retire,
And patrons took a pleasure to reward. Yet too long ease but serves to quench the fire. But ah, how soon must glorious times decay, Wing'd with new praise, methinks they boldly One transient joy, just kuown, and snatch'd O’er airy Alps, and seem to touch the sky. [Ay Still true to fame, here well-wrought busts de. By the same foes, which Painting shunn'd before, High turrets nod, and arches sink away. (cay, Ev'n here she bleeds, and arts expire once more. Ev’n the bare walls, whose breathing figures Ease, lust, and pleasures shake a feeble state, glowd
Gothic invasions, and domestic hate; [sume, With each warın stroke that living art bestow'd, Time's slow decays, what these ev'n spare, conOr slow decay, or hostile time invades,
And Rome lies bury'd in the depths of Rome ! And all in silence the fair fresco fades.
Long slumber'd Painting in a stupid trance Each image yet in fancy'd thoughts we view, Of heavy zeal, and moukish ignorance : And strong idea forms the scene a-new:
(When faith itself for mere dispute was giv'n, Delusive, she, Paulo's free stroke supplies, [eyes. Subtile was wise, and wranglers went to Heav'n.) Revives the face, and points th' enlightning | 'Till glorious Cimabue 16 restor'd her crown,
'Tis thought each science, but in part, can And dipp'd the pencil, studious of renown. A length of toils for human life at most: [boast Masaccio taught the finish'd piece to live, (So vast is art!) if this remark prove true,
And added ev'ry grace of perspective. 'Tis dang'rous sure to think at once of two, Exact correctness Titian's hand bestow'd, And hard to judge if greater praise there be
And Vinci's stroke with living labour glow'd. To please in painting, or in poetry;
Next Julio rose, who ev'ry language knew, Yet Painting lives less injur'd, or confin'd, Liv'd o'er each age, and look'd all nature True to th' idea of the master's mind :
through. In ev'ry nation are her beauties known,
Io happy Paulo strength and art conspire, In ev'ry age the language is her own :
The Graces please us, and the Muses fire, Nor time, nor change diminish from her fame; Each nobler secret others boast alone, Her charms are universal, and the same.
By curious toil Caracci made his own : 0, could such blessings wait the poet's lays, Raphael's nice judgment, Angelo's design, New beauties still, and still eternal praise ! Correggio's warmth, and Gu do's pleasing line. Ev'n though the Muses ev'ry strain inspire, 'Tbrice gorions times, when ev'ry science charms, Exalt his voice, and animate his lyre :
When rapture lifts us, and religion warms ! Ev'n tho' their art each image sbou'd combine
Vocal to Heav'n the swelling organs blow, In one clear light, one harmony divine;
A shriller consort aids the notes below:
Above, around the pictur'd saints appear, 14 This practice is of no late invention. Bap. And list'ning seraphs smile and bend to hear tista Poria, who fourished about the year 1500, Thence l’ainting, by some happy genius led, gives an ingenious account of it in his Nacural O'er the cold North in slow approaches spread. Magic, lib. 17. How useful this may be to Ev'n Britain's isie, that blush'd with hostile gore, young painters, is not my province to determine. Receiv'd her laws, unknown to yield before; is singula quæque, locum tencant sortita decenter.
16 Giovanni Cimabue, born at Florence in the Hoc amat obscurum, vult hoc sub luce videri. year 1240. He was the person who revived paint
orat. / ing after its unfortunate extirpation.
Relenting now, her sayage heroes stand,
of celebration, when Cydippe was seized with And melt at ev'ry stroke from Reubens' hand. a violent fever. Acontius writes to her, he Still in his right the graceful Jervas sways,
reminds her of a former solemn chligation, and Sacred to beauty, and the fair one's praise,
artfully insinuates that her distemper is ige Whose breathing paint another life supplies, fiicted as a just punishment from Diana. And calls new wonders forth from Mordaunt's eyes.
Once more, Cydippe, all thy fears remove, And Thornbill, gen'rous as his art, design'd 'Tis now too late to dread a cheat in lore. At once to profit, and to please mankind. Those rosy lips, in accents half divine, Thy dome, O Paul's, which heav'nly views adorn, Breath'd the soft promise in the Delian shrine; Shall guide the hands of painters yet unborn; Dear awful oath! enough Cydippe swore, Each melting stroke shall foreign eyes engage, No human ties can bind a virgin more. . And shine unrival'd through a future age. So may kind Hear'n attend a lover's pray'r, Hail happy artists! in eternal lays
Soften thy pains, and comfort my despair, The kindred-muses shall record your praise; See, the warm blush your modest cheeks inflame; Whose heav'nly aid inspir'd you first to rise, Yet is there cause for anger or for shame! And fix'd your fame immortal in the skies; Recal to mind those tender lines of love, There sure to last, 'till Nature's self expires, Deny you cannot—tho' your heart disprove. Increasing still, and crown'd with clearer fires : Still must I waste in impotent desires, High-rais'd above the blasts of public breath, And only hope revive the fainting fires ? The voice of hatred, and the rage of death. Yet did'st thou promise to be ever mine
Ah, thus, for ever may my numbers shine, A conscious horrour seem'd to shake the shrine, Bold as your thoughts, but easy as your line ! The pow'r consenting bow'd ; a beam of light Then might the Muse to distant ages live, Flash'd from the skies, and made the temple Contract new beauty, and new praise receive:
bright. Fresh strength, and light ev’n time itself bestow, Ah! then Cydippe, dry thy precious tears: Soften each line, and bid the thought to glow; The more my fraud, the more my love appears. (Pame's second life) whose lasting glory fears Lore ever-watchful, ev'd by nature charms; Nor change, nor envy, nor devouring years. Infames the modest, and the wise disarms; Then should these strains to Pembroke's hands Fair yet dissembling, pleasing but to cheat be borne
With tender blandishment, and soft deceit, Whom native graces, gentle arts adorn,
Kind speaking motions, melancholy sighs, Honour unsbaken, piety resign’d,
Tears tbat delight, and eloquence of eyes. A love of learning, and a gen'rous mind.
Love first the treach'rous dear design inspir'd. Yet if by chance, enamour'd of his praise, My hopes exalted, and my genius fir'd: Some nobler bard shall rise in future days, Ah! sure I cannot-must not guilty prove; (When from his Wilton walls the strokes decay, Deceit itself is laudable in love! and all art's fair creation dies away:
Once more inspir'd such tender lines I send, Or solid statues, faithless to their trust,
See, my hand trembles lest my thoughts offend. In silence sink, to mix with vulgar dust;) Heroes in war inflam'd by beauty's charms, Ages to come shall Pembroke's fame adore, Tear the sad virgin from her parents arms; Dear to the Muse, 'till Homer be no more, I too, like these, feel the fierce flames of love,
Yet check my rage, and modestly reprove.
Ah, teach me, Heav'n, some language to persuade, ACONTIUS TO CYDIPPE.
Some other vows to bind the faithless maid ;
O Love all-eloquent, you only know
To touch the soul with elegies of woe!
If treach'ry fail, by force I urge my right,
Sheath'd in rough armour, formidably bright: In a religious assembly at the temple of Diana in So Paris snatch'd his Spartan bride away,
Delos, Acontius was much enamoured with A half denying, half consenting prey; Cydippe, a lady of remarkable wit and beau- I too resolve-whate'er the dangers be, ty. Besides this, her fortune and family For death is nothing when compar'd to thee. were much above his own : which made him Were you less fair, I then inight guiltless prove, solicitous how to discover his passion in a And moderate the fury of my love; successful manner. At last he procured a very But ah! those charms for ever must inspire : beautiful apple, upon which he wrote a dys- Each look, each motion sets my soul on fire. tic to this purpose, “ I swear by chaste Diana Heav'n's with what pleasing ecstasies of pain I will for ever be thy wife.” So soon as he Trembling I gaze, and watch thy glance in vain. had written it, he threw the apple directly at How can I praise those golden curls that deck the feet of Cydippe, who imagining nothing of Each glowing cheek, or wave around thy neck: the deceit, took it up, and having read the in- Thy swelling arms, and forehead rising fair, scription, found herself obliged by a solemn | Thy modest sweetness, and attractive air; path to marry Acontius. For in those times Adjoin to these a negligence of grace, all oaths which were made in the temple of A winning accent, and enchanting face. Diana were esteemed inviolable. Some time Dear matchless charms! I cease to name the rest, afterwards, ber father, who knew nothing of Nor wonder thou that love inflames my breast. what had happened, espoused her to another Since all alike to Hymen's altars bend, loyer. The marriage was just upon the point Ah, bless at once the lover, and the friend,
Let envy rage, and intrest disapprove,
Some faint excuse he raises, to detain Envy and intrest must submit to love.
Thy swelling arm, and press the beating vein; By pray’rs and vows Hesione was won
Now o'er thy neck his glowing fingers rove, To share the joys of hostile Telamon.
Too great a pleasure for so mean a love ! Soft gen'rous pity touch'd the captive dame · Villain beware! the sacred nymph resign,Who arm'd Achilles with a lover's flame. Avoid, detest her, dread whate'er is mine; To bless the wretched, shows a soul divine
Elsewhere a lover's preference I give, Be ever angry--but be ever mine.
But cease to rival here, or cease to live. Yet can no pray’rs thy firm resentment move? The vows you claim by right of human laws, Wretch that I was so ill to fix my love!
At best but serve to vindicate my cause.
To thee alone by duty is she kind;
First weigh the crime, the vengeance next explore, And lifted hands, and supplicating eyes.
The father promis'd, but the daughter swore : Then wilt thou say (for pity sure must move
That merely rain on human faith relies ; A virgin's breast) “ How patient is his love!
But this obtests the sanction of the skies. Ev'n my heart trembles, as his tears I see;
Here cease my woes—ah, whither am I born, The youth who serves so well, is worthy me." A woman's triumph, and a rival's scorn ? Still must I then in sad destruction moan? Vain are my vows, unheeded is my pray'r, My cause unheeded, and my grief unknown, The scatt'ring winds have lost 'em all in air; Ah, no--Acontius cannot write in vain :
Yet think Cydippe, e'er thy lover dies ! Sure ev'ry wretch has licence to complain !
Banish that wretch for ever from thy eyes; But if you triumph in a lover's woe,
Scorn, envy, censures are conferr'd on me, Remember still Diana is your foe:
And pain,--and death is all he brings to thee. Diana listen'd to the vows you made,
Gods!may some vengeance crimes like these atone, And trembled at the change her eyes survey'd.
And snatch his life, to mediate for thy own! Ah, think, repent, while yet the time is givin, Nor think to please avenging Cynthia's eyes Fierce is the vengeance of neglected Heav'a !
With streams of blood in boly sacrifice: By Dian's hand the Phrygian matron fell,
Heav'n 'clains the real, not the formal part, Sent with her race,an early shade to Hell.
A troubled spirit, and repenting heart. Chang'd to a stag, Acteon pour'd away,
For ease, and health, the patient oft requires In the same morn the chaser and the prey.
The piercing steel, and burns alive in fires; Althea rag'd with more than female hate,
Not so with you.-ah, but confirm the vow! And hurl'd into the flames the brand of fate. One look, one promise can restore thee now; Like these offensive, punish'd too like these, Again thy smiles eternal joys bestow, Heav'n blasts thy joys, and heightens the disease. And thy eyes sparkle, and thy blushes glow. Nor think Cydippe, (as my fears foresee)
Suppose from me for ever you remove, A thought unworthy of thyself, or me!
Once must you fall a sacrifice to love; Think not I frame this seeming truth, to prove
And then, ah, then will angry Cyothia close Thy stern disdain, a pious fraud in love ;
Thy wakeful eyes, or ease a matron's throes? Rather than so, I yet abjure thy charms,
Yet wilt thou ever find a cause for shame? And yield thee, scornful, to another's arms!
No surea mother cannot, must not blame. Alas, for this pale sickness haunts thy bed,
Tell her the vow, the place, the sacred day And shooting aches seem to tear thy head;
I gaz'd on thee, and gaz'd my heart away : A sudden vengeance waits thy guilty loves;
Then will she surely say (if e'er she knew Absentis Hymen, Dian disapproves.
But half that tender love I feel for you) Think then, repent-recal the parting breath “ Ah, think Cydippe, and his consort be; O'er thy lips hov'ring in the hour of death.
The youth who pleas'd Diana, pleases me!” See, on thy cheeks the fading purple dies,
Yet if she asks (as women oft inquire) And shades of darkness settle on thy eyes.
Tell her my life, my nation, and my sire: But whence, ye pow'rs, or wherefore rose that Not void of youthful vanities I caine, pray'r?
Nor yet inglorions in the world of fame; Still must I mourn in absence, or despair ;
From ancient race I drew my gen'rous blood, Forc'd, if she dies, the promise to resign
Where Cea's isle o'erlooks the watry flood : Ev'n if she lives, I must not call her mine! Add, that I study ev'ry art to please,
Like some pale ghost around thy house I rove, Blest in my genius, born to live at ease. Now burn in rage, and now relent with love: Wit, merit, learoing cannot fail to move, A thousand needless messages I make,
And all those dearer blessings lost in love ! A thousand mournful speeches give, and take. Ab ! had you never sworn, 'twere hard to chuse O that my skill the sov'reign virtues knew
A love like mine and will you now refuse ? Of ev'ry herb that drinks the early dew,
In midnight dreams when wakeful fancy keeps 'Then might I hear thy moans, thy sickness see,
Its dearest thoughts, and ev’n in slumber weeps, Nor were it sure a crime to gaze on thee.
Diana's self these mournful strains inspir’d, Perhaps ev'n now, (as fear foresees too well) And Cupid when I wak’d, my genius tir'd. The wretch I curse, detest, avoid like Hell,
Methinks, ev'n now, his piercing arrows move Beside thec breathes alove-dejected sigh,
My tender breast, and spread the pains of love, And marks the silent glances of thy eye.
Like me beware, unhappy as thou art !
Direct at thee Diana aims her dart 1 Brisein
To drink the blood that feeds thy faithless heart
The loves thon never can'st enjoy, resign;
In fires of Hell Typhons glows, Nor rashly lose another life with thine.
Imprison’d by the wrath of Jove; Theo will we, eager as our joys, remove
No ease his restless fury knows,
Nor sounds of joy, nor pleasing love.
With mountains of eternal snow ;
STROPHE II. Pleasure farewell, and thou, my dear, adieu !
Angry flames like scarlet glowing.
Fiery torrents ever flowing, PART OF PINDAR'S FIRST PYTHIAN Smoke along the with’ring plain ODE PARAPHRASED.
Ere they rush into the main.
When the sable veil of night
Stretches o'er the shaded sky,
Fires of sulphur gleam with light, This ode is address'd to Hieron king of Sicily, as
Burning rocks disparted fly. is also the first of the Olympics. Pindar takes Sudden, by turns the flashing fames arise, occasion to begin with an encomium on music, Four down the winds, or tremble up the skies. finely describing its effects upon the passions.
ANTISTROPHE II. We must suppose i his art to be one of his hero's
In fair Sicilia's rich domain, more distinguishable excellencies ; as it ap
Where fow'rs and fruits eternal blow, pears from several passages in the ode above.
Where Plenty spreads her peaceful reign, From thence he expatiates in the praise of
And seas surround, and fountains How, poetry; and inveighs very severely upon those
Bright Religion lifts her eye, who either contemn, or have no taste for that
Wand'ring through the kindred-sky. divine science. Their misfortunes and punish
Hail thou, everlasting Jove, ments are instanc'd by those of Typhæus :
Parent of th’ Aonian quire ; whom the poets imagine to be imprisoned by Jupiter under mount Ætna. The digres
Touch my raptur'd soul with love,
Warm me with celestial fire ! sions in this ode are the most inartificial and surprising of any in the whole author. We
EPODE II. are once more in the hero's native country ; The pious mariner when first he sweeps every thing opens agreeably to the eye, and The foaming billows, and exalts his sails, the poem proceeds after Pindar's usual man- Propitiates ev'ry pow'r that rules the deeps, ner.
Led by new hopes, and borne by gentle gales.
So ere the Muse, disus'd to sing,
Emblazons her fair bero's praise :
(What time she wakes the trembling string, Wake the string to voice again.
Attemper'd to the vocal lays)
Prostrate in humble guise she bends,
While some celestial pow's descends
To guide her airy flights along :
God of the silver bow, give ear ;
(Whom Tenedos, and Chrysa fear)
Ooservant of the song! Entranc'd in pleasure Jove's dread eagle lies,
Gentle wishes, chaste desires,
Holy Hymen's purer fires :
Lives of innocence and pleasure, Rolls o'er the field bis sanguine eyes,
Moral virtue's mystic treasure; His heart tumultuous beats to arms,
Wisdom, eloquence, and love,
All are blessings from above.
Hence regret, distaste, dispraise,
Guilty nights, uneasy days:
Repining jealousies, calm friendly wrongs,
And fiercer envy, and the strife of tongues.
When Virtue bleeds beneath the laws,
Or ardent nations rise in arms, Verse, gentle Verse from Heav'ndescending came, Thy mercies judge the doubtful cause, Curst by the wicked, bateful to the vain : Thy courage ev'ry breast alarms. Tyrants and slaves profane bis sacred name,
Kindling with heroic fire Deaf to the tender lay, or vocal strain,...
Once again I sweep the lyre,