Shadows are but privations of the light; :
Yet, when we walk, they fhoot before the fight;
With us approach, retire, arise, and fall;
Nothing themselves, and yet expreffing all.
Such are thy pieces, imitating life
So near, they almoft conquer in the strife;
And from their animated canvafs came,
Demanding fouls, and loofen'd from the frame.
Prometheus, were he here, would caft away
His Adam, and refufe a foul to clay;
And either would thy noble work inspire,
Or think it warm enough without his fire.
But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise;
This is the least attendant on thy praise :
From hence the rudiments of art began;
A coal, or chalk, first imitated man:
Perhaps the fhadow, taken on a wall,
Gave outlines to the rude original;
Ere canvafs yet was ftrain'd, before the grace
Of blended colours found their use and place,
Or cypress tablets firft receiv'd a face.
By flow degrees the godlike art advanc'd ;
As man grew polifh'd, picture was inhanc'd:
Greece added pofture, fhade, and perfpective ;)
And then the mimic piece began to live.
Yet perspective was lame, no diftance true,
But all came forward in one common view:
No point of light was known, no bounds of art;
When light was there, it knew not to depart,
But glaring on remoter objects play'd;
Not languish'd, and infenfibly decay'd.
Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive,
And with old Greece unequally did ftrive:
Till Goths and Vandals, a rude northern race,.
Did all the matchlefs monuments deface...
Then all the Mufes in one ruin lie,
And rhyme began t' enervate poetry.-
Thus, in a stupid military state,
The pen and pencil find an equal fate.
Flat faces, fuch as would difgrace a skreen,.
Such as in Bantam's embaffy were seen,
Unrais'd, unrounded, were the rude delight
Of brutal nations, only born to fight.
Long time the fifter arts, in iron sleep,›
A heavy fabbath did fupinely keep:
At length, in Raphael's age, at once they rife,
Stretch all their limbs, and open all their
eyes.
Thence rofe the Roman, and the Lombard line::
One colour'd beft, 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,,
Poftures unforc'd, and lively colours join.
Likeness is ever there; but ftill the best,
Like proper thoughts in lofty language dreft:
Where light, to shades descending, plays, not frives,
Dies by degrees, and by degrees revives.
Of various parts a perfect whole is wrought:
Thy pictures think, and we divine their thought.
Shakespeare, thy gift, I place before my fight:
With awe, I ask his bleffing ere I write ;
With reverence look on his majestic face;
Proud to be lefs, but of his godlike race.
His foul infpires me, while thy praise I write,
And I, like Teucer, under Ajax fight:
Bids thee, through me, be bold; with dauntlefs breaft
Contemn the bad, and emulate the best.
Like his, thy criticks in th' attempt are loft:
When most they rail, know then, they envy moft.
In vain they fnarl aloof; a noify croud,
Like women's anger, impotent and loud.
While they their barren industry deplore,
Pass on fecure, and mind the goal before.
Old as she is, my Muse fhall march behind,
Bear off the blaft, and intercept the wind.
Our arts are fisters, though not twins in birth:
For hymns were fung in Eden's happy earth:
But oh, the painter Mufe, though laft in place,
Has feiz'd the bleffing firft, like Jacob's race.
Apelles' art an Alexander found;
And Raphael did with Leo's gold abound;
But Homer was with barren laurel crown'd.
Thou hadft thy Charles a while, and fo had I;
But pafs we that unpleafing image by.
Rich in thyfelf, and of thyfelf divine;
All pilgrims come and offer at thy shrine.
A graceful truth thy pencil can command;
The fair themselves go mended from thy hand.
Likenefs appears in every lineament;
But likeness in thy work is eloquent..
Though nature there her true resemblance bears,
A nobler beauty in thy piece appears.
So warm thy work, fo glows the generous frame,
Flesh looks less living in the lovely dame.
Thou paint'ft as we defcribe, improving ftill,
When on wild nature we ingraft our skill;
But not creating beauties at our will.
But poets are confin'd in narrower space, To speak the language of their native place: The painter widely ftretches his command; Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land. From hence, my friend, all climates are your own,. Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.
All nations all immunities will give
To make you theirs, where'er you please to live;
And not seven cities, but the world would strive,
Sure fome propitious planet then did fmile,
When firft you were conducted to this ifle:
Our genius brought you here, t'inlarge our fame ;.
For
your good stars are every where the fame. Thy matchlefs hand, of every region free, Adopts our climate, not our climate thee.
Great Rome and Venice early did impart
To thee th' examples of their wondrous art..
Those masters then, but feen, not understood,.
With
generous emulation fir'd thy blood :
For what in nature's dawn the child admir'd,
The youth endeavour'd, and the man acquir'd.
If yet thou haft not reach'd their high degree,
'Tis only wanting to this age, not thee.
Thy genius, bounded by the times, like mine,
Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare defign
A more exalted work, and more divine.
For what a fong, or fenfeless opera,
Is to the living labour of a play;
Or what a play to Virgil's work would be,
Such is a fingle piece to history.
But we, who life beftow, ourselves muft live:
Kings cannot reign, unless their subjects give;
And they, who pay the taxes, bear the rule:
Thus thou, fometimes, art forc'd to draw a fool:
But fo his follies in thy pofture fink,
The fenfelefs ideot feems at last to think.
Good heaven! that fots and knaves fhould be fo vain, To wish their vile resemblance may remain! And ftand recorded, at their own request,
To future days, a libel or a jest!
Elfe fhould we fee your noble pencil trace
Our unities of action, time, and place:
A whole compos'd of parts, and those the best,,
With every various character expreft:
Heroes at large, and at a nearer view;
Lefs, and at diftance, an ignobler crew.
While all the figures in one action join,
As tending to complete the main defign..
More cannot be by mortal art expreft;
But venerable age shall add the rest. -
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