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Though hurricanes rise, and rise every So just, the life itself was there. wind,

No flattery with his colors laid, No tempest can equal the storm in my To bloom restored the fadeil maid ; mind;

He gave each muscle all its strength, Though loudest of thunders on louder The mouth, the chin, the nose's length. waves roar,

His honest pencil touched with truth, That 's naething like leaving my love on And marked the date of age and youth. the shore.

He lost his friends, his practice failed; To leave thee behind me my heart is sair Truth should not always be revealed; pained,

In dusty piles his pictures lay, But by ease that's inglorious no fame For no one sent the second pay. can be gained :

Two bustos, fraught with every grace, And beauty and love's the reward of the A Venus' and Apollo's face, brave;

He placed in view ; resolved to please, And I maun deserve it before I can crave. Whoever sat, he drew from these,

From these corrected every feature, Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my And spirited each awkward creature. excuse;

All things were set; the liour was Since honor commands me, how can I

comie, refuse?

His pallet ready o'er his thumb. Without it I ne'er can have merit for My lord appeared; and seated right thee,

In proper attitude and light, And losing thy favor I'd better not be. The painter looked, he sketched the I gae then, my lass, to win honor and

piece, fame,

Then dipped his pencil, talked of Greece, And if I should chance to come glorious Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air; hame,

“Those eyes, my lord, the spirit there I'll bring a heart to thee with love run. Might well a Raphael's hand require, ning o'er,

To give them all their native fire ;
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber The features fraught with sense and

wit,
You 'll grant are very hard to hit;
But yet with patience you shall view
As much as paint and art can do.

Observe the work." My lord replied:
JOHN GAY.

“Till now I thought my mouth was (1688 - 1732.]

Besides, my nose is somewhat long;

Dear sir, for me, 't is far too young.' THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED NOBODY “Oh! pardon me,” the artist cried, AND EVERYBODY.

“In this the painters must decide.

The piece even common eyes must strike, LEST men suspect your tale untrue, I warrant it extremely like." Keep probability in view.

My lord examined it anew; The traveller, leaping o'er those bounds, No looking-glass seemed half so true. The credit of his book confounds.

A lady came; with borrowed grace Who with his tongue hath armies routed He from his Venus formed her face. Makes even his real courage doubted : Her lover praised the painter's art; But fattery never seems absurd ; So like the picture in his heart ! The flattered always takes your word : To every age some charm he lent; Impossibilities seein just;

Even beanties were almost content. They take the strongest praise on trust. Through all the town his art they praised; Hyperboles, though ne'er so great, His custom grew, his price was raised. Will still come short of self-conceit. Had he the real likeness shown, So very like a painter drew,

Would any man the picture own? That every eye the picture knew; But when thus happily he wrought, He hit complexion, feature, air,

Each found the likeness in his thought.

no more.

wide ;

JOHN BYROM.

JAMES THOMSON.

51

JOHN BYROM.

But fame shall find me no man's fool,

Nor to a set of men a slave : (1691 - 1763.)

I love a friendship free and frank,

And hate to hang upon a hank.
CARELESS CONTENT.

Fond of a true and trusty tie,
I Am content, I do not care,

I never loose where'er I link; Wag as it will the world for me; Though if a business budges by, When fuss and fret was all my fare, I talk thereon just as I think; It got no ground as I could see :

My word, my work, my heart, my hand, So when away my caring went,

Still on a side together stand. I counted cost, and was content.

If names or notions make a noise, With more of thanks and less of thought, Whatever hap the question hath,

I strive to make my matters meet; The point impartially I poise, To seek what ancient sages sought,

And read or write, but without wrath; Physic and food in sour and sweet : For should I burn, or break my brains, To take what passes in good part, Pray, who will pay me for my pains ? And keep the hiccups from the heart.

I love my neighbor as myself, With good and gentle-humored hearts,

Myself like him too, by his leave; I choose to chat where'er I come,

Nor to his pleasure, power, or pelf Whate'er the subject be that starts;

Came I to crouch, as I conceive: But if I get among the glum,

Dame Nature doubtless has designed I hold my tongue to tell the truth,

A man the monarch of his mind.
And keep my breath to cool my broth.
For chance or change of peace or pain,

Now taste and try this temper, sirs; For Fortune's favor or her frown,

Mood it and brood it in your breast; For lack or glut, for loss or gain,

Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs, I never dodge nor up nor down;

That man does right to mar his rest, But swing what way the ship shall swim, Let me be deft, and debonair, Or tack about with equal trim.

I am content, I do not care.
I suit not where I shall not speed,

Nor trace the turn of every tide;
If simple sense will not succeed,
I make no bustling, but abide;

JAMES THOMSON.
For shining wealth or scaring woe,
I force no friend, I fear no foe.

(1700- 1748.] Of ups and downs, of ins and outs, FROM THE “CASTLE OF INDOLENCE." of they ’re i’ the wrong, and we're i the right,

Is lowly dale, fast by a river's side, I shun the rancors and the routs;

With woody hill o'er hill encompassed And wishing well to every wight,

round, Whatever turn the matter takes,

A most enchanting wizard did abide, I deem it all but ducks and drakes. Than whom a friend more fell is no.

where found. With whom I feast I do not fawn,

It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground : Nor if the folks shoulil fout me, faint; And there a season atween June and If wonted welcome be withdrawn,

May, I cook no kind of a complaint:

Half pranked with spring, with sumWith none disposed to disagree,

mer half imbrowned, But like them best who best like me. A listless climate made, where, sooth Not that I rate myself the rule

No living wight could work, nor cared How all my betters should behave;

even for play.

to say,

52

Was naught around but images of rest : And of gay castles in the clouds that
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns

pass,
between;

Forever flushing round a summer sky: And flowery beds that slumberous in There eke the soft delights, that witchfluence kest,

ingly From poppies breathed; and beds of Instil a wanton sweetness through the pleasant green,

breast, Where never yet was creeping crea And the calm pleasures, always hov. ture seen.

ered nigh; Meantime unnumbered glittering But whate'er smacked of noyance or streamılets played,

linrest And hurled everywhere their waters Was far, far off expelled from this delisheen;

cious nest. That, as they bickered through the

sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.

A HYMN.

Joined to the prattle of the purling These, as they change, Almighty Fa. rills,

ther, these Were heard the lowing herds along the Are but the varied God. The rolling vale,

year And flocks loud bleating from the dis- Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing tant hills,

spring And vacant shepherds piping in the Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and dale;

love. And now and then sweet Philomel Wide flush the fields; the softening air would wail,

is balm ; Or stock-doves plain amid the forest Echo the mountains round; the forest deep,

smiles; That drowsy rustled to the sighing Then comes thy glory in the summer

And every sense,

and

every heart, is joy. gale; And still a coil the grasshopper did

months, keep:

With light and heat refulgent. Then Yet all these sounds yblent inclinéd all

thy sun to sleep.

Shoots full perfection through the swell.

ing year;

And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder Full in the passage of the vale above,

speaks, A sable, silent, solemn forest stood, And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling Where naught but shadowy forms was

eve, seen to move, As Illesse fancied in her dreamy mood :

By brooks and groves, in hollow-whis.

pering gales. And up the hills, on either side, a Thy bounty shines in autumn unconwood

fined, Of blackening pines, aye waving to And spreads a common feast for all that and fro,

lives. Sent forth a sleepy horror through the In winter awful thou ! with clouds and And where this valley winded out be. Around thee thrown, tempest o’er tem

low, The murmuring main was heard, and Majestic darkness! On the whirlwind's

pest rolled, scarcely heard, to flow.

wing,

Riding sublime, thou bid'st the world A pleasing land of drowsy-heal it was, adore, of dreams that wave before the half. And humblest nature with thy northern

blast.

blood ;

storms

shut eye:

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