And mark'd the Hero and the Man ? Lo! INFANT Jove prepares to throw 190 REYNOLDS! I'm not to censure prone; Your genius I most gladly own; And wish that genius might secure A name, that would as long endure, As those high honors which proclaim Immortal RAPHAEL's endless fame. For such a fame pursue the toil, And fix it deep in solid oil. 200 To Painting's highest efforts climb, Proceed, great Painter! nor refuse_ Your subjects from the friendly Muse: Nor can she call from ancient fame Men of a more exalted name, Than some whom our Britannia owns Among her favorite, darling Sons. Nor e'er did gentle Beauty move Than many a Fair whose charms inspire 220 Come, then, th' expecting cloth prepare! In SHAKSPERE'S Temple let him stand, And let Parnassian Fingers shower 230 And let her pluck a verdant spray From Shakspere's never-fading bay ;_240 And into form the garland weave, And place it on the favor'd brow Beneath let serpent Flatt'ry lour, Bedeck'd with many a fading flower; And let her pois'nous train appear, To writhe in foul contortion there. Again th' unfading tints prepare! Before the Senate's awful chair, That flood of rapid eloquence, Which now with wond'rous sweetness charms, Now by its nervous force alarms; And, with a more than Wizard's art, Let emblems of exalted Sense Of Genius, Wit, and Eloquence, Of cunning Art's collected store, With careless grace, be scatter'd round, And, where he stands, bestrew the ground. But 'mid th' inestimable heap 770 Now on the canvass be display'd The figure of a weeping Maid! Paint her thin cheeks of pallid hue; With flooding tears those cheeks bedew ; And turn her humble, streaming eye To the soft mercies of the Sky. Upon her arm, with haggard mien, Let F*x's tawny figure lean; And, in his face, pourtray the smart Which Conscience lashes on his heart. Before them paint the bright abodes Of Virtue and her kindred Gods: Let HOPE beside the portal stand, The anchor in her beck'ning hand, And kindly bid the sorrowing Pair To urge their steps, and enter there. Your hand an harder task must try, 280 And heav'nly raptures bless'd the day! 290 Paint on his cheek health's crimson glow, Let whiteness clad his youthful brow, And give him ev'ry charm beside Expected by a blooming Bride! But if your pencil should refuse The arduous task; my forward Muse_360 Time, Sir, and you have long been foes: And make her aged as her Lord. Such as your pencil would have given Again I urge the pencil's power: 326 |