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tory, and appears to have been written as a compliment to the Dunciad of Pope, whose opinions he followed as far as they respected the merits of the dunces whom Pope chastised. So much knowledge of the art and acquaintance with the works of the most eminent painters, argue a taste, surprising at his early age. He had some turn for drawing, and made several sketches when abroad, which were afterwards engraved as head pieces for the poems in the Amaranth. In this Essay, he delights in images, which, although in general pleasing and just, are perhaps too frequently, and as it were periodically introduced. With all his admiration of Pope, he was not less attached to Dryden as a model, and if he has less harmony than Pope, he has at the same time less monotony. His translations are faithful and not inelegant. His acquaintance with the classics was very intimate, and he has decorated his Essays on Husbandry with The Soliloquy oca profusion of apt illustrations. casioned by the chirping of a Grasshopper is tender and playful, but his other small pieces are not entitled to particular notice.

SELECT POEMS.

AN

ESSAY ON PAINTING.

TO THE RIGHT HON.

THOMAS EARL OF PEMBROKE.

Μιμητική [Ποιήσεως] τεχνη και δυναμις εςιν αντιςροφος τη ζωγραφια. ζωγραφίαν μεν λέγεσιν είναι ΦΘΕΓΓΟΜΕΝΗΝ την Ποιησιν, Ποιησιν δε ΣΙΓΩΣΑΝ την ζωγραφίαν.

PLUTARCH, de audiend. Poet.

-Poema

Est Pictura loquens, mutum Pictura Poema.

ARGUMENT.

A parallel between painting and poetry-Advice to a good painter; instanced by Titian-An universal notion of beauty-That we must not despair-A luxuriant fancy, or too much exactness often faulty-Decency still to be preserved--Repose and so. litude-Nature to be imitated-In a fault whether to be corrected or not-The Je ne scai quoi of beauty-Draperies-An encomium on painting-The episode of Mimicina-Sculpture -Innovations faulty-Sometimes to be admired-InventionUnion of colours-Immoderate ornament-The LandscapeDesign-The principal figure of a picture-Modesty in a pain. ter-Harmony of colours-The surprise-Optics-The obscura camera described; its use in painting-Disposition of objects

Two equal lights to be avoided in the same picture-Truth to be observed-Travelling, its use-Another parallel between poetry and painting-Their distinct excellencies consideredPainting far more lasting and universal-Yet derived its light first from poetry-Its rise and progress through all ages-An account of the most celebrated painters, with their several characters-Conclusion, with an address to the Earl of Pem.

broke.

WHATEVER yet in poetry held true,

If duly weigh'd, holds just in painting too:
Alike to profit and delight they tend,

The means may vary, but the same their end.
Alike from Heaven congenial first they came,
The same their labours, and their praise the same :
Alike by turns they touch the conscious heart,
And each on each reflects the lights of art.
You nobler youths, who listen to my lays,
And scorn by vulgar arts to merit praise,
Look cautious round, your genius nicely know,
And mark how far its utmost stretch will go;
Pride, envy, hatred labour to conceal,
And sullen prejudice, and party-zeal;
Approve, examine, and then last believe-
For friends mislead, and critics still deceive.
Who takes his censure or his praise on trust,
Is kind, 'tis true, but never can be just.

But where's the man with generous zeal inspir'd,
Dear in each age, in every art admir'd?
Bless'd with a genius strong, but unconfin'd,
A sprightly wit with sober judgment join'd,
A love of learning, and a patient mind;
A vigorous fancy, such as youth requires,
And health, and ease, and undisturb'd desires;

Who spares no pains his own defects to know,
Who not forgives, but ev'n admires a foe;
By manners sway'd, which, stealing on the heart,
Charm more through ease and happiness than art.
Such Titian was, by Nature form'd to please,
Bless'd in his fortunes, born to live at ease :
Who felt the poet's or the painter's fire,
Now dipp'd the pencil, and now tun'd the lyre:
Of gentlest manners in a court refin'd,
A friend to all, belov'd of all mankind;
The Muse's glory, as a monarch's care,"
Dear to the gay, the witty, and the fair!
But ah! how long will nature ask to give
A soul like his, and bid a wonder live?
Rarely a Titian or a Pope appears,
The forming glory of a thousand years!

A proper taste we all derive from Heav'n,
Wou'd all but bless, and manage what is giv'n.
Some secret impulse moves in every heart,
And nature's pleas'd with gentle strokes of art.
Most souls, 'tis true, this blessing faintly charms;
A distant flame, that rather shines than warms:
Like rays, through wintry streams reflected, falls
Its dubious light, in glimmering intervals.

Like Maro, first with trembling hand design
Some humble work, and study line by line:
A Roman urn, a grove-encircled bow'r,
The blushing cherry, or the bending flow'r.
Painful and slow to noble arts we rise,
And long long labours wait the glorious prize;
Yet by degrees your steadier hand shall give
A bolder grace, and bid each object live.

Titian was created Count Palatine by Charles V. and most intimately acquainted with Ariosto, Aretine, &e.

So in the depths of some sequester'd vale,
The weary peasant's heart begins to fail :
Slowly he mounts the huge high cliff with pain,
And prays, in thought, he might return again :
Till opening all at once beneath his eyes,
The verdant trees and glittering turrets rise;
He springs, he triumphs, and like lightning flies..
Ev'n Raphael's self from rude essays began,
And shadow'd with a coal his shapeless man.
Time was, when Pope for rhymes would knit his
brow,

And write as tasteless lines-as I do now.

'Tis hard a sprightly fancy to command, And give a respite to the labouring hand; Hard as our eager passions to restrain, When priests, and self-denial, plead in vain : When pleasures tempt, and inclinations draw, When vice is nature, and our will the law, As vain we strive each trivial fault to hide, That shows but little judgment, and more pride. Like some nice prude, offensive to the sight, Exactness gives at best a cold delight; Each painful stroke disgusts the lively mind; For art is lost, when overmuch refin'd: So nice reformers their own faith betray, And school-divines distinguish sense away. To err is mortal, do whate'er we can, Some faulty trifles will confess the man. Dim spots suffuse the lamp that gilds the sky, If nicely trac'd through Galileo's eye. Wisest are they, who each mad whim repress, And shun gross errors, by committing less.

Still let due decencies preserve your fame, Nor must the pencil speak the master's shame.

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