Who to thy praife attemps the dang'rous flight
Should in thy various tongues be taught to write,
His verfe like thee a lofty dress fhould wear,
And breathe the genius which inhabits there;
Thy proper lays alone can make thee live
And pay that fame which first thyself didst give:
So fountains which thro' fecret channels flow,
And pour above the floods they take below,
Back to their father Ocean urge their way,
And to the fea the ftreams it gave repay.
No more we fear the military rage
Nurs'd up in fome obfcure barbarian age,
Nor dread the ruin of our arts divine
From thickfcull'd heroes of the Gothick line,
Tho' pale the Romans faw thofe arms advance,
And wept their learning loft in ignorance.
Let brutal rage around its terrours spread,
The living murder and confume the dead,
In impious fires let nobleft writings burn,
And with their authors fhare a common urn,
Only, ye Fates! our lov'd Bodleian spare,
Be It and Learning's felf fhall be your care;
Here ev'ry art and ev'ry grace fhall join,
Collected Phoebus here alone shall shine,
Each other feat be dark and this be all divine.
Thus when the Greeks imperial Troy defac'd,
And to the ground its fatal walls debas'd,
In vain they burn the work of hands divine,
And vow deftruction to the Dardan line,
Whilft good neas flies th' unequal wars,
And with his guardian gods Iülus bears;
Old Troy for ever stands in him alone,
And all the Phrygian kings furvive in one.
Here ftill prefides each sage's rev'rend shade, 100 In foft repofe and easy grandeur laid;
Their deathlefs works forbid their fame to die,
Nor Time itself their perfons fhall destroy,
Preferv'd within the living Gallery *.
What greater gift could bounteous Heav'n bestow 105
Than to be feen above and read below?
With deep refpect I bend my duteous head
To fee the faithful likeness of the dead;
But O! what Mufe can equal warmth impart?
The painter's skill tranfcends the poet's art.
When round the pictur'd founders I defcry,
With goodness foft and great with majefly,
So much of life the artful colours give,
Scarce more within their colleges they live;
My blood begins in wilder rounds to roll,
And pleafing tumults combat in my foul,
An humble awe my downcaft eyes betray,
And only lefs than adoration pay.
Such were the Roman Fathers when o'ercome
They faw the Gauls infult o'er conquer'd Rome, 120
The Picture Gallery.
Each captive feem'd the haughty victor's lord,
And proftrate chiefs their awful flaves ador'd.
Such art as this adorns your Lowther's Hall,
Where feafting gods carouse upon the wall;
The nectar which creating paint fupplies
Intoxicates each pleas'd fpectator's eyes,
Who view amaz'd the figures heav'nly fair,
And think they breathe the true Elyfian air:
With strokes fo bold great Verrio's hand has drawn
The gods in dwellings brighter than their own. 130
Fir'd with a thousand raptures I behold
What lively features grac'd each hard of old;
Such lips I think did guide his charming tongue,
In fuch an air as this the poet fung,
Such eyes as thefe glow'd with the facred fire, 135
And hands like thefe employ'd the vocal lyre.
Quite ravish'd I pursue each image o'er,
And scarce admire their deathlefs labours more.
See, where the gloomy Scaliger appears
Each fhade is critick and each feature fneers!
The artful Ben fo fmartly strikes the eye
I more than fee a fancy'd comedy;
The muddy Scotus crowns the motley show,
And metaphyficks cloud his wrinkled brow;
But diftant awe invades my beating breast
To fee great Ormond in the paint exprest ;
With fear I view the figure from afar
Which burns with noble ardour for the war;
But near approaches free my doubting mind,
To view fuch sweetness with such grandeur join'd.
Here ftudious heads the graver tablet fhows, 15I
And there with martial warmth the picture glows;
The blooming youth here boasts a brighter hue,
And painted virgins far outshine the true.
Hail, Colours which with Nature bear a ftrife, 155 And only want a voice to perfect life!
The wond'ring stranger makes a sudden stand,
And pays low homage to the lovely band,
Within each frame a real fair believes,
And vainly thinks the mimick canvass lives,
Till undeceiv'd he quits th' enchanting fhow
Pleas'd with the art tho' he laments it too.
So when his Juno bold Ixion woo'd,
And ain'd at pleasures worthy of a god,
A beauteous cloud was form'd by angry Jove 165 Fit to invite tho' not indulge his love;
The mortal thought he saw his goddess fhine,
And all the lying Graces look'd divine,
But when with heat he clasp'd her fancy'd charms
The empty vapour baulk'd his eager arms.
Loth to depart I leave th' inviting feenie,
Yet fcarée forbear to view it o'er again,
But still new objects give a new delight,
And various profpects blefs the wand'ring fight.
Aloft in flate the airy tow'rs arise,
And with new lufte deck the wond'ring skies.
Lo, to what height the schools afcending reach!
Built with that art which they alone can teach;
The lofty dome expands her spacious gate
Where all the decent Graces jointly wait;
In ev'ry fhape the god of Art reforts,
And crowds of fages fill th' extended courts.
With wonders fraught the bright Museum see,
Itfelf the greatest curiofity,
Where Nature's choicest treasure all combin'd 185
Delight at once and quite confound the mind;
Ten thoufand fplendours ftrike the dazzled eye,
And form on earth another Galaxy.
Here colleges in fweet confufion rife,
There temples feem to reach their native fkies; 199
Spires tow'rs and groves compofe the various shew,
And mingled profpects charm the doubting view.
Who can deny their characters divine,
Without refplendent and inspir'd within?
But fince above my weak and artless lays
Let their own poets fing their equal praife.
One labour more my grateful Verse renews,
And rears aloft the low defcending Mufe;
The building parent of my young effays
Afks in return a tributary praise.
Pillars fublime bear up the learned weight,
And antique fagcs tread the pompous height,
* Queen's College Library.
|