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Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire
Fresnay's close art, and Dryden's native fire :
And reading with, like theirs, our fate and fame,
So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our name,
Like them to shine thro' long succeeding age,
So just thy skill, so regulár my rage..
Smit with the love of fifter-arts we came,
And met congenial, mingling flame with flame;
Like friendly colours found our hearts unite,
And each from each contract new strength and
How oft" in pleasing tasks we wear the day,
While fummer funs roll unperceiv'd away?
How oft' our flowly-growing works impart,
While images reflect from art to art:
How oft' review; each finding like a friend
Something to blame, and something to commend?
What flatt’ring scenes our wand'ring fancy
Rome's pompous glories rising to our thought!
Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,
Fir'd with ideas of fair Italy.
With thee, on Raphael's monument I'mourn,
Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's urn:
With thee repofe, where Tully once was laid,
Or seek some ruin's formidable fhade;
While fancy brings the vanilh'd piles to view,
And builds imaginary. Rome a-new.
Here thy well-ftudy'd marbles fix our eye;
A fading Fresco here demands a figh:
Each heav'nly peace unweary'd we compare,
Match Raphael's grace with thy lov'd Guido's air,
Carracci's strength, Correggio's fofter line,
Panko's free stroke, and Titian's warmth divine.
How finish'd with illustrious toil appears
This small, well polish'd gem, the * work of years!
Yet still how faint by precept is expreft:
The living image in the painter's breaft?:
Thence endless streams of fair ideas flow,
Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow;
Thence beauty, waking all her forms, supplies
An angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes.
Muse! at that name thy facred forrows Thed,, Those tears eternal, that embalm the dead: Call round her tomb each object of desire, Each purer frame inform’d with purer fire :
* Frefsoy employed, abave twenty years in finishing this poem.
Bid her be all that chears or softens life,
The tender fifter, daughter, friend and wife;
Bid her be all that makes mankind adore ;
Then view this marble, and be vain no more!
Yet ftill her charms in breathing paint engage;
Her modest cheek shall warm a future age.
Beauty, frail flow'r that ev'ry season fears,
Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years.
Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprizeg,
And other Beauties envy Wortley's eyes,
Each pleasing Blount fhall endless smiles beftow,
And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow.
Oh lasting as those colours may they thine, Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line! New graces yearly, like thy works display; Soft without weakness, without glaring gay; Led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains; And finish'd more thro' happiness than pains ! The kindred arts shall in their praise confpire, One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre.. Yet should the graces all thy figures place, And breathe an air divine on, ev'ry face; Yet should the muses bid my numbers roll, Strong as their charms, and gentle as their soul ;
With Zeuxis Helen thy Bridgwater vie,
And these be sung till Granville's Myra die;
Alas ! how little from the grave we claim?
Thou but preserv'st a form, and I a name.
N these gay thoughts the loves and graces shine,
And all the writer lives in ev'ry line;
His easy art may happy nature seem,
Trifles themselves are elegant in him.
Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate,
Who without flatt’ry pleas'd the fair and great;:
Still with esteem no less convers'd than read;
With wit well-natur’d, and with books well-bred;
His heart, his mistress and his friend did share;
His time, the muse, the witty, and the fair.
Thus wisely careless, innocently gay,
Chearful he play'd the trifle, life, away.