Yet still may PAINTING's glowing hand
An equal share of praise command;
In every province claim her mingled part,
The wondering sense to charm, or moralize the heart.
Majestic, nervous, bold, and strong,
Let ANGELO with MILTON vie;
Opposed to WALLER's amorous song,
His art let wanton TITIAN try;
Let great ROMANO's free design
Contend with DRYDEN'S pompous line;
And chaste CORREGGIO's graceful air,
With POPE's unblemished page compare;
LORRAINE may rival THOMSON's name;
And HOGARTH's equal BUTLER's fame:
For still, where'er the aspiring Muse
Her wide, unbounded flight pursues,
Her Sister soars on kindred wings sublime,
And gives her favourite names to grace the rolls of time.
When just degrees of shade and light
Contend in sweetest harmony,
Then bursts upon the raptured sight
The silent MUSIC of the eye.
Bold, as the Bass's deeper sound,
We trace the well-imagined ground;
Next in the varying scenes behind,
The sweet melodious Tenor find;
And as the softening notes decay,
The distant prospect fades away: .
Their aid if mingling colours give,
To bid the mimic landscape live;
The visual concert breaks
With every different charm which Music's hand supplies.
If, torn from all we hold most dear,
The tedious moments slowly roll,
Can MUSIC's tenderest accents cheer
The silent grief that melts the soul?
Or can the POET's boasted art
The healing balm of peace impart?
-Ah, no!-'T is only PAINTING's power
Can soothe the sad, the painful hour;
Can bring the much-loved form to view,
In features exquisitely true:
The sparkling eye, the blooming face,
The shape adorned with every grace,
To Nature's self scarce yield the doubtful strife,
Swell from the deepening shade, and ask the gift of life.
By slow degrees, the Muse's skill
A just conception must impart;
Bend by degrees the stubborn will;
Touch by degrees the hardened heart :
To aid the task whilst Memory joins,
And every wandering thought combines;
Collecting then the beauteous whole,
She gives the idea to the soul :
But when, with happiest nature warm,
The Artist spreads his pictured charm,
At once we feel the accomplished thought,
At once the great effect is wrought;
Nor only to the judging few confined,
It strikes each artless eye, and speaks to every mind.
In all the force of language drest,
But faintly moves the feeble strain;
But to the faithful sight exprest,
The story thrills through every vein.
Friend of the Arts, when CÆSAR bled,
Soon as the murderous tidings spread,
Each Roman heaved a sigh sincere,
Each hardy veteran dropped a tear:
But when, to public view confest,
High waved the hero's blood-stained vest,
A generous phrenzy seized the throng,
Revenge was heard from every tongue;
Thence every nervous arm fresh vigour drew,
Bright gleamed the vengeful steel, and dreadful firebrands flew.
O Queen of heaven's unnumbered dyes!
Whose skill, with various power replete,
Can bid the swift ideas rise,
Of tender, beauteous, strong, and great!
For thee in mutual bands we join ;-
Nor thou the fond attempt decline;
But to our longing sight display
Some sparks of thy celestial ray :
And if beneath a rough disguise
The latent gem of Genius lies,
Do thou impart thy friendly aid,
Thy loveliest polish o'er it spread;
So shall its beams, with genuine lustre bright, Pour radiance on thine head, who called it first to light.
And ye, with wealth profusely blest,
The substitutes of Power supreme,
To cheer the heart by grief deprest,
And cherish Virtue's sacred flame;
To us your generous cares extend;
The suppliant train of Arts befriend:
Nor think, to Misery's claims unjust,
You misapply your sacred trust;
Or, whilst you bid the Genius rise,
Your noble task neglected lies:
For still the breast where GENIUS glows,
A sense of MORAL BEAUTY knows;
Endued with gifts above the crowd to shine,
The judge of Nature's works, and Virtue's charms divine.
Sed postquam tellus seclere est imbuta nefando,
Justitiamque omnes cupida de mente fugarunt,
Perfudere manus fraterno sanguine fratres.-Catullus.
OFFSPRING of love divine, Humanity!
To whom, his eldest born, the Eternal gave
Dominion o'er the heart; and taught to touch
Its varied stops in sweetest unison;
And strike the string that from a kindred breast
Responsive vibrates! From the noisy haunts
Of mercantile confusion, where thy voice
Is heard not; from the meretricious glare
Of crowded theatres, where in thy place
Sits Sensibility, with watery eye,
Dropping o'er fancied woes her useless tear;
Come Thou! and weep with me substantial ills,
And execrate the wrongs, that Afric's sons,
Torn from their natal shore, and doomed to bear
The yoke of servitude in western climes,
Sustain. Nor vainly let our sorrows flow,
* The First Part of the following Poem was published in 1787, and the Second Part in the year following.
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