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What then remains, but, waving each extreme, Ere canvas yet was strain'd, before the grace The tides of ignorance and pride to stem?

Of blended colors found their use and place,
Neither so rich a treasure to forego;

Or cypress tablets first receiv'd a face.
Nor proudly seek beyond our power to know: | By slow degrees the godlike art advanc'd;
Faith is not built on disquisitions vain ;

As man grew polish'd, picture was enhanc'd :
The things we must believe are few and plain : Greece added posture, shade, and perspective ;
But, since men will believe more than they need, And then the mimic piece began to live.
And every man will make himself a creed,

Yet perspective was lame, no distance true, In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way

But all came forward in one common view; To learn what unsuspected ancients say:

No point of light was known, no bounds of art; For 'tis not likely we should higher soar

When light was there, it knew not to depart,
In search of Heaven, than all the church before : But glaring on remoter objects play'd ;
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we see

Not languish'd, and insensibly decay'd.
The Scripture and the fathers disagree.

Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive, If after all they stand suspected still,

And with old Greece unequally did strive : For no man's faith depends upon his will;

Till Goths and Vandals, a rude northern race, "Tis some relief, that points not clearly known Did all the matchless monuments deface. Without much hazard may be let alone :

Then all the Muses in one ruin lie, And, after hearing what our church can say, And rhyme began t' enervate poetry. If still our reason runs another way,

Thus, in a stupid military state, That private reason 'tis more just to curb,

The pen and pencil find an equal fate.
Than by disputes the public peace disturb. Flat faces, such as would disgrace a screen,
For points obscure are of small use to learn: Such as in Bantam's embassy were seen.
But common quiet is mankind's concern.

Unrais'd, unrounded, were the rude delight
Thus have I made my own opinions clear: Of brutal nations, only born to fight.
Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear: Long time the sister arts, in iron sleep,
And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chose ;

A heavy sabbath did supinely keep:
As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose :

At length, in Raphael's age, at once they rise, For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, Stretch all their limbs, and open all their eyes. Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. Thence rose the Roman, and the Lombard line :

One color'd best, and one did best design.
Raphael's, like Homer's, was the nobler part,
But Titian's painting look'd like Virgil's art.

· Thy genius gives thee both ; where true design, TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

Postures unforc'd, and lively colors, join.

Likeness is ever there; but still the best,
PRINCIPAL PAINTER TO HIS MAJESTY. Like proper thoughts in lofty language drest;

Where light, to sharins descending, plays, not strives, ONCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,

Dies by degrees, and by degrees revives. And still the sweet idea charms my mind :

Of various parts a perfect whole is wrought: True, she was dumb; for nature gaz'd so long, Thy pictures think, and we divine their thought. Pleas'd with her work, that she forgot her tongue; | Shakspeare, thy gift, I place before my sight : But, smiling, said, "She still shall gain the prize; With awe, I ask his blessing ere I write; I only have transferr'd it to her eyes."

With reverence look on his majestic face; Such are thy pictures, Kneller: such thy skill, Proud to be less, but of his godlike race, That Nature seems obedient to thy will;

His soul inspires me, while thy praise I write, Comes out, and meets thy pencil in the draught; And I, like Teucer, under Ajax fight, Lives there, and wants but words to speak her Bids thee, through me, behold; with dauntless breast thought.

Contemn the bad, and emulate the best. At least thy pictures look a voice; and we

Like his, thy critics, in th' attempt are lost Imagine-sounds, deceiv'd to that degree,

When most they rail, know then, they envy most. We think 'tis somewhat more than just to see. In vain they snarl aloof; a noisy crowd, Shadows are but privations of the light;

Like women's anger, impotent and loud. Yet, when we walk, they shoot before the sight; While they their barren industry deplore, With us approach, retire, arise, and fall;

Pass on secure, and mind the goal before. Nothing themselves, and yet expressing all. Old as she is, my Muse shall march behind, Such are thy pieces, imitating life

Bear off the blast, and intercept the wind. So near, they almost conquer in the strife ;

Our arts are sisters, though not twins in birth : And from their animated canvas came,

For hymns were sung in Eden's happy earth : Demanding souls, and loosen'd from the frame. But oh, the painter Muse, though last in place,

Prometheus, were he here, would cast away Has seiz'd the blessing first, like Jacob's race. His Adam, and refuse a soul to clay;

| Apelles' art an Alexander found ; And either would thy noble work inspire,

And Raphael did with Leo's gold abound; Or think it warm enough without his fire.

But Homer was with barren laurel crown'd. But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise; Thou hadst thy Charles awhile, and so had I, This is the least attendant on thy praise :

But pass we that unpleasing image by. From hence the rudiments of art began;

Rich in thyself, and of thyself divine ; A coal, or chalk, first imitated man:

All pilgrims come and offer at thy shrine. Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall,

A graceful truth thy pencil can command; Gave outlines to the rude original;

| The fair themselves go mended from thy hand.

Likeness appears in every lineament;

THE COCK AND THE FOX :
But likeness in thy work is eloquent.
Though Nature there her true resemblance bears,

OR, THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST. A nobler beauty in thy piece appears.

There liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, So warm thy work, so glows the generous frame, A widow, somewhat old, and very poca: Flesh looks less living in the lovely dame.

Deep in her cell her cottage lonely stood, Thou paint'st as we describe, improving still, Well thatch'd and under covert of a wood. When on wild Nature we ingraft our skill;

This dowager, on whom my tale I found, But not creating beauties at our will.

Since last she laid her husband in the ground, But poets are contin'd in narrower space, A simple sober life, in patience, led, To speak the language of their native place: And had but just enough to buy her bread : The painter widely stretches his command ; But huswifing the little Heaven had lent, Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land. She duly paid a groat for quarter rent; From hence, my friend, all climates are your own, | And pinch'd her belly, with her daughters two, Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.

To bring the year about with much ado. All nations all immunities will give

The cattle in her homestead were three sows, To make you theirs, where'er you please to live; An ewe callid Mallie, and three brinded cows. And not seven cities, but the world would strive. Her parlor-window stuck with herbs around,

Sure some propitious planet then did smile, Of savory smell; and rushes strew'd the ground. When first you were conducted to this isle : A maple-dresser in her hall she had, Our genius brought you here, t' enlarge our fame : Jon which full many a slender meal she made; For your good stars are everywhere the same. For no delicious morsel pass'd her throat; Thy matchless hand, of every region free,

According to her cloth she cut her coat: Adopts our climate, not our climate thee.

No poignant sauce she knew, nor costly treat,
Great Rome and Venice early did impart Her hunger gave a relish to her meat:
To thee the examples of their wondrous art. A sparing diet did her health assure ;
Those masters then, but seen, not understood, Or, sick, a pepper posset was her cure.
With generous emulation fir'd thy blood :

Before the day was done, her work she sped,
For what in Nature's dawn the child admir'd, And never went by candle-light to bed :
The youth endeavor'd, and the man acquir'd. With exercise she sweat ill humors out,

If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree, Her dancing was not hinder'd by the gout. "Tis only wanting to this age, not thee.

Her poverty was glad ; her heart content; Thy genius, bounded by the times, like mine, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapors meant. Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare design | Of wine she never tasted through the year, A more exalted work, and more divine.

But white and black was all her homely cheer: For what a song, or senseless opera,

Brown bread, and milk, (but first she skimm'd her Is to the living labor of a play;

bowls) Or what a play to Virgil's work would be,

And rashers of sing'd bacon on the coals. Such is a single piece to history.

On holy-days an egg, or two at most; But we, who life bestow, ourselves must live: But her ambition never reach'd to roast. Kings cannot reign, unless their subjects give :

A yard she had with pales inclos'd about, And they, who pay the taxes, bear the rule :

Some high, some low, and a dry ditch without. Thus, thou, sometimes, art forc'd to draw a fool : Within this homestead, liv'd, without a peer, But so his follies in thy posture sink,

For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer; The senseless idiot seems at last to think.

So hight her cock, whose singing did surpass Good Heaven! that sots and knaves should be so The merry notes of organs at the mass. vain,

More certain was the crowing of the cock To wish their vile resemblance may remain! To number hours, than is an abbey-clock; And stand recorded, at their own request,

And sooner than the matin-bell was rung, To future days, a libel or a jest!

He clapp'd his wings upon his roost, and sung : Else should we see your noble pencil trace For when degrees fifteen ascended right, Our unities of action, time, and place:

By sure instinct he knew 'twas one at night. A whole compos'd of parts, and those the best, High was his comb, and coral red withal, With every various character exprest;

In dents embattled like a castle wall; Heroes at large, and at a nearer view :

His bill was raven-black, and shone like jet; Less, and at distance, an ignobler crew.

Blue were his legs, and orient were his feet: While all the figures in one action join,

White were his nails, like silver to behold, As tending to complete the main design.

His body glittering like the burnish'd gold. More cannot be by mortal art exprest;

This gentle cock, for solace of his life, But venerable age shall add the rest,

Six misses had, besides his lawful wife; For Time shall with his ready pencil stand; Scandal, that spares no king, though ne'er so good, Retouch your figures with his ripening hand; Says, they were all of his own flesh and blood, Mellow your colors, and embrown the teint; His sisters both by sire and mother's side; Add every grace, which Time alone can grant; And sure their likeness show'd them near allied. To future ages shall your fame convey,

But make the worst, the monarch did no more And give more beauties than he takes away. Than all the Ptolemys had done before :

When incest is for interest of a nation,
'Tis made no sin by holy dispensation.
Some lines have been maintain'd by this alone,
Which by their common ugliness are known.

Dame Partlet was the sovereig te is er
Ardent in love, outrageous in his puur,
He feather'd her a hundred times L ar
And she, that was not only passing fur:
But was withal discreet, and debonair
Resolv'd the passive doctrine to fu.fi.
Though loth ; and let him work has wret
At board and bed was affable and binti
According as their marriage vow did not
And as the church's precept had etiam
Ev'n since she was a se'nnight old, ther sus
Was chaste and humble to her dying dat
Nor chick nor hen was known to dister

By this her husband's heart she did i t
What cannot beauty, join'd with virtue, son
She was his only joy, and he her pride,
She, when he walk'd, went pecking by the
If, spurning up the ground, he sprung i So
The tribute in his bill to her was borne
But, Oh! what joy it was to hear him an
In summer, when the day began to sprmg
Stretching his neck, and warbling in his torrent
"Solus cum sola,” then was all his brote.
For in the days of yore, the birds of the
Were bred to speak, and sing, and lean the

arts.
It happ'd, that, perching on the parlos
Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream
Just at the dawn; and sigh'd, and groot is
As every breath he drew would be his tase
Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his side,
Heard all his piteous moan, and bow he cried
For help from gods and men: and sore a
She peck'd and pull’d, and waken'd tum at
* Dear heart," said she," for love of Heaven les
Your pain, and make me partner of your
You groan, sir, ever since the morning-gut.
As something had disturb'd your mobile spa

u And, madam, well I might,” said Cimi
" Never was shrovetide cock in such a fear:
Ev'n still I run all over in a sweat,
My princely senses not recover'd yet
For such a dream I had of dire portent,
That much I fear my body will be sent
It bodes I shall have wars and woful stri
Or in a lothesome dungeon end my life
Know, dame, I dreamt within my trouble
That in our yard I saw a murderous
That on my body would have made a
With waking eyes I ne'er beheld his
His color was betwixt a red and yellow
Tipp'd was his tail, and both his prie
Were black, and much unlike his old
The rest, in shape a beagle's whep
With broader forehead, and a shares
Deep in his front were sunk his
That yet methinks I see him with
Reach out your hand, I drop will
And lay it to my heart, and feel

"Now fy for shame," quote
Thou hast for ever lost thy tuis
No woman can endure a rear
He must be bold by day, and
Our sex desires a husband
Who can our honor and be
Wise, hardy, secret, libem
A fool is nauseous, but
No bragging coxcomb,
How dar'st thou tali

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Likeness appears in every lineament;

THE COCK AND THE FOX:
But likeness in thy work is eloquent.
Though Nature there her true resemblance bears,

OR, THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST. A nobler beauty in thy piece appears.

THERE liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, So warm thy work, so glows the generous frame, A widow, somewhat old, and very pocz: Flesh looks less living in the lovely dame.

Deep in her cell her cottage lonely stood, Thou paint'st as we describe, improving still, Well thatch'd and under covert of a wood. When on wild Nature we ingraft our skill; This dowager, on whom my tale I found, But not creating beauties at our will.

Since last she laid her husband in the ground, But poets are confind in narrower space, A simple sober life, in patience, led, To speak the language of their native place : And had but just enough to buy her bread : The painter widely stretches his command ; But huswifing the little Heaven had lent, Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land. She duly paid a groat for quarter rent; From hence, my friend, all climates are your own, And pinch'd her belly, with her daughters two, Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.

To bring the year about with much ado. All nations all immunities will give

The cattle in her homestead were three sows, To make you theirs, where'er you please to live; An ewe callid Mallie, and three brinded cows. And not seven cities, but the world would strive.

Her parlor-window stuck with herbs around, Sure some propitious planet then did smile,

Of savory smell; and rushes strew'd the ground. When first you were conducted to this isle :

A maple-dresser in her hall she had, Our genius brought you here, t' enlarge our fame : On which full many a slender meal she made; For your good stars are everywbere the same. For no delicious morsel pass'd her throat; Thy matchless hand, of every region free,

According to her cloth she cut her coat: Adopts our climate, not our climate thee.

No poignant sauce she knew, nor costly treat,
Great Rome and Venice early did impart Her hunger gave a relish to her meat:
To thee the examples of their wondrous art. A sparing diet did her health assure;
Those masters then, but seen, not understood, Or, sick, a pepper posset was her cure.
With generous emulation fir'd thy blood :

Before the day was done, her work she sped,
For what in Nature's dawn the child admir'd, And never went by candle-light to bed :
The youth endeavor'd, and the man acquir'd. With exercise she sweat ill humors out,

If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree, Her dancing was not hinder'd by the gout. 'Tis only wanting to this age, not thee.

Her poverty was glad; her heart content ; Thy genius, bounded by the times, like mine, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapors meant. Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare design

Of wine she never tasted through the year, A more exalted work, and more divine.

But white and black was all her homely cheer: For what a song, or senseless opera,

Brown bread, and milk, (but first she skimm'd her Is to the living labor of a play;

bowls) Or what a play to Virgil's work would be,

And rashers of sing'd bacon on the coals.
Such is a single piece to history.

On holy-days an egg, or two at most;
But we, who life bestow, ourselves must live: But her ambition never reach'd to roast.
Kings cannot reign, unless their subjects give : A yard she had with pales inclos'd about,
And they, who pay the taxes, bear the rule :

Some high, some low, and a dry ditch without. Thus, thou, sometimes, art forc'd to draw a fool : Within this homestead, liv'd, without a peer, But so his follies in thy posture sink,

For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer; The senseless idiot seems at last to think.

So hight her cock, whose singing did surpass Good Heaven! that sots and knaves should be so The merry notes of organs at the mass. vain,

More certain was the crowing of the cock To wish their vile resemblance may remain! To number hours, than is an abbey-clock; And stand recorded, at their own request,

And sooner than the matin-bell was rung, To future days, a libel or a jest!

He clapp'd his wings upon his roost, and sung : Else should we see your noble pencil trace For when degrees fifteen ascended right, . Our unities of action, time, and place:

By sure instinct he knew 'twas one at night. A whole compos'd of parts, and those the best, High was his comb, and coral red withal, With every various character exprest;

In dents embattled like a castle wall; Heroes at large, and at a nearer view:

His bill was raven-black, and shone like jet ; Less, and at distance, an ignobler crew.

Blue were his legs, and orient were his feet : While all the figures in one action join,

White were his nails, like silver to behold, As tending to complete the main design.

His body glittering like the burnish'd gold. More cannot be by mortal art exprest;

This gentle cock, for solace of his life, But venerable age shall add the rest,

Six misses had, besides his lawful wife; For Time shall with his ready pencil stand; Scandal, that spares no king, though ne'er so good, Retouch your figures with his ripening hand; Says, they were all of his own flesh and blood, Mellow your colors, and embrown the teint; His sisters both by sire and mother's side; Add every grace, which Time alone can grant; And sure their likeness show'd them near allied. To future ages shall your fame convey,

But make the worst, the monarch did no more And give more beauties than he takes away. Than all the Ptolemys had done before :

When incest is for interest of a nation,
"Tis made no sin by holy dispensation.
Some lines have been maintain'd by this alone,
Which by their common ugliness are known.

But passing this, as from our tale apart,

How dar'st thou tell thy dame thou art affear'd ? Dame Partlet was the sovereign of his heart : Hast thou no manly heart, and hast a beard ? Ardent in love, outrageous in his play,

"If aught from fearful dreams may be divin'd, He feather'd her a hundred times a day:

They signify a cock of dunghill kind. And she, that was not only passing fair,

All dreams, as in old Galen I have read, But was withal discreet, and debonnaire,

Are from repletion and complexion bred ; Resolv'd the passive doctrine to fulfil,

From rising fumes of indigested food, Though loth; and let him work his wicked will : And noxious humors that infect the blood : At board and bed was affable and kind,

And sure, my lord, if I can read aright, According as their marriage vow did bind,

These foolish fancies you have had to-night And as the church's precept had enjoin'd :

Are certain symptoms (in the canting style) Ev'n since she was a se'nnight old, they say, Of boiling choler, and abounding bile ; Was chaste and humble to her dying day,

This yellow gall, that in your stomach floats,
Nor chick nor hen was known to disobey.

Engenders all these visionary thoughts
By this her husband's heart she did obtain ; When choler overflows, then dreams are bred
What cannot beauty, join'd with virtue, gain! Of flames, and all the family of red;
She was his only joy, and he her pride,

Red dragons, and red beasts, in sleep we view,
She, when he walk'd, went pecking by his side ; For humors are distinguish'd by their hue.
If, spurning up the ground, he sprung a corn, From hence we dream of wars and warlike things,
The tribute in his bill to her was borne.

And wasps and hornets with their double wings. But, Oh! what joy it was to hear him sing

Choler adust congeals our blood with fear, In summer, when the day began to spring,

Then black bulls toss us, and black devils tear. Stretching his neck, and warbling in his throat, In sanguine airy dreams aloft we bound, ** Solus curn sola," then was all his note.

With rheums oppress'd we sink, in rivers drown'd.. For in the days of yore, the birds of parts

“More I could say, but thus conclude my theme, Were bred to speak, and sing, and learn the liberal The dominating humor makes the dream. arts.

Cato was in his time accounted wise,
It happ'd, that, perching on the parlor-beam And he condemns them all for empty lies.
Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream,

Take my advice, and when we fly to ground,
Just at the dawn; and sigh'd, and groand so fast, With laxatives preserve your body sound,
As every breath he drew would be his last. And purge the peccant humors that abound.
Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his side,

I should be loth to lay you on a bier;
Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cried And though there lives no 'pothecary near,
For help from gods and men: and sore aghast 1 I dare for once prescribe for your disease,
She peck'd and pull'd, and waken'd him at last. And save long bills, and a damn'd doctor's fees.
** Dear heart," said she, “ for love of Heaven, declare “ Two sovereign herbs, which I by practice
Your pain, and make me partner of your care.

know, You groan, sir, ever since the morning-light, | And both at hand (for in our yard they grow ;) As something had disturb'd your noble spright." On peril of my soul shall rid you wholly

“ And, madam, well I might,” said Chanticleer, Of yellow choler, and of melancholy: “Never was shrovetide cock in euch a fear; You must both purge and vomit; but obey, Ev'n still I run all over in a sweat,

And for the love of Heaven make no delay. My princely senses not recover'd yet.

Since hot and dry in your complexion join, For such a dream I had of dire portent,

Beware the Sun when in a vernal sign;
That much I fear my body will be shent:

For when he mounts exalted in the Ram,
It bodes I shall have wars and woful strife, If then he finds your body in a flame,
Or in a lothesome dungeon end my life.

Replete with choler, I dare lay a groat,
Know, dame, I dreamt within my troubled breast, A tertian ague is at least your lot.
That in our yard I saw a murderous beast, Perhaps a fever (which the gods forefend)
That on my body would have made arrest. May bring your youth to some untimely end :
With waking eyes I ne'er beheld his fellow; And therefore, sir, as you desire to live,
His color was betwixt a red and yellow :

A day or two before your laxative,
Tipp'd was his tail, and both his pricking ears Take just three worms, nor under nor above,
Were black, and much unlike his other hairs : Because the gods unequal numbers love.
The rest, in shape a beagle's whelp throughout, These digestives prepare you for your purge;
With broader forehead, and a sharper snout: Of fumetery, centaury, and spurge,
Deep in his front were sunk his glowing eyes, And of ground-ivy add a leaf or two,
That yet methinks I see him with surprise.

All which within our yard or garden grow.
Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat, Eat these, and be, my lord, of better cheer;
And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat."

Your father's son was never born to fear." "Now fy for shame," quoth she," by Heaven above, “Madam," quoth he, “ gramercy for your care, Thou hast for ever lost thy lady's love;

But Cato, whom you quoted, you may spare : No woman can endure a recreant knight,

'Tis true, a wise and worthy man he seems, He must be bold by day, and free by night: And (as you say) gave no belief to dreams. Our sex desires a husband or a friend,

But other men of more authority, Who can our honor and his own defend;

And, by th’immortal powers, as wise as he, Wise, hardy, secret, liberal of his purse:

Maintain, with sounder sense, that dreams forebode A fool is nauseous, but a coward worse :

For Homer plainly says they come from God.
No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight, Nor Cato said it but some modern fool
How dar'st thou talk of love, and darst not fight? \Impos'd in Cato's name on boys at school.

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