That Cofmo chofe thy glowing form to place
Amidst her masters of the Lombard race?
See on her Titian's and her Guido's urns
Her falling arts forlorn Hesperia mourns,
While Britain wins each garland from her brow,
Her wit and freedom first, her painting now.
Let the faint copier on old Tiber's fhore,
Nor mean the task, each breathing bust explore,
Line after line with painful patience trace,
This Roman grandeur that Athenian grace;
Vain care of parts: if, impotent of soul,
Th' industrious workman fails to warm the whole, Each theft betrays the marble whence it came, And a cold ftatue ftiffens in the frame.
Thee Nature taught, nor Art her aid deny'd,
The kindest mistress and the surest guide,
To catch a likeness at one piercing fight,
And place the fairest in the fairest light.
Ere yet thy pencil tries her nicer toils,
Or on thy palette lie the blended oils,
Thy careless chalk has half achiev'd thy art,
And her juft image makes Cleora start.
A mind that grafps the whole is rarely found; Half-learn'd, half-painters, and half-wits, abound. 40 Few like thy genius at proportion aim,
All great, all graceful, and throughout the fame.
Such be thy life. O fince the glorious rage
That fir'd thy youth flames unsubdu'd by age,
Tho' wealth nor fame now touch thy fated mind, 45
Still tinge the canvass, bounteous to mankind!
Since after thee may rife an impious line,
Coarfe manglers of the human face divine,
Paint on till Fate diffolve thy mortal part,
And live and die the monarch of thy art.
FAIR daughter once of Windfor's woods,
In fafety o'er the rolling floods
Britannia's boaft and darling care,
Big with the fate of Europe, bear!
May winds propitious on his way
The minifter of peace convey,
Nor rebel wave nor rising storm
Great George's liquid realms deform.
Our vows are heard; thy crowded fails
Already fwell with western gales,
Already Albion's coaft retires,
And Calais multiplies her fpires.
At length has royal Orleans preft
With open arms the wellknown guest,
Before in facred friendship join'd,
And now in counfels for mankind.
Whilft his clear fchemes our patriot fhows,
And plans the threaten'd world's repose,
They fix each haughty monarch's doom,
And blefs whole ages yet to come.
Henceforth great Brunfwick fhall decree
What flag mufl awe the Tyrrhene fea,
For whom the Tuscan grape shall glow,
And fruitful Arethufa flow.
See in firm leagues with Thames combine
The Seine, the Maefe, and diftant Rhine;
Nor, Ebro! let thy fingle rage
With half the warring world engage:
Oh! call to mind thy thousands flain,
And Almanara's fatal plain,
While yet the Gallick terrours fleep,
Nor Britain thunders from the deep.
His Red-crofs Knights and Barons bold,
Whose vacant feats by Virtue bought
Ambitious emperours have fought,
Where Britain's foremost names are found,
In peace belov'd, in war renown'd,
Who made the hoftile nations moan,
Or brought a bieffing on their own;
Once more a fon of Spencer waits,
A name familiar to thy gatės,
Sprung from the chief whofe prowefs gain'd
The Garter while thy founder reign'd;
He offer'd here his dinted fhield,
The dread of Gauls in Creffy's field,
Which in thy high-arch'd temple rais'd
For four long centuries hath blaz'd.
Thefe feats our fires, a hardy kind!
To the fierce fons of War confin'd,
The flow'r of chivalry! who drew
With finew'd arm the stubborn yew,
Or with heav'd poleaxe clear'd the field,
Or who in jufts and tourneys fkill d
Before their ladies' eyes renown'd
Threw horfe and horfeman to the ground.
In aftertimes as courts refin'd
Our patriots in the lift were join'd;
Not only Warwick ftain'd with blood,
Or Marlb'rough near the Danube's flood,
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