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What then remains, but, waving each extreme, Ere canvas yet was strain'd, before the grace The tides of ignorance and pride to stem?
Of blended colors found their use and place,
Or cypress tablets first receiv'd a face.
As man grew polish’d, picture was enhanc'd :
But all came forward in one common view; To learn what unsuspected ancients say:
No point of light was known, no bounds of art; For 'tis not likely we should higher soar
When light was there, it knew not to depart,
Not languish'd, and insensibly decay'd.
Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive, If after all they stand suspected still,
And with old Greece unequally did strive : For no man's faith depends upon his will;
Till Goths and Vandals, a rude northern race, 'Tis some relief, that points not clearly known Did all the matchless monuments deface. Without much hazard may be let alone:
Then all the Muses in one ruin lie, And, after hearing what our church can say, And rhyme began t' enervate poetry. If still our reason runs another way,
Thus, in a stupid military state, That private reason 'tis more just to curb,
The pen and pencil find an equal fate.
Unrais'd, unrounded, were the rude delight
At length, in Raphael's age, at once they rise, For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, Stretch all their limbs, and open all their eyes. Tom Sternhold’sor Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. Thence rose the Roman, and the Lombard line :
One color'd best, and one did best design.
Thy genius gives thee both ; where true design,
Postures unforc'd, and lively colors, join.
Likeness is ever there; but still the best,
Where light, to shoul-a descending, plays, not strives, ONCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,
Dies by degrees, and by degrees revives. And still the sweet idea charms my mind : of various parts a perfect whole is wrought: True, she was dumb; for nature gaz'd so long, Thy pictures think, and we divine their thought. Pleas'd with her work, that she forgot her tongue; Shakspeare, thy gift, I place before my sight: But, smiling, said, “ She still shall gain the prize ; With awe, I ask his blessing ere I write; I only have transferr'd it to her eyes."
With reverence look on his majestic face; Such are thy pictures, Kneller: such thy skill, Proud to be less, but of his godlike race, That Nature seems obedient to thy will ;
His soul inspires me, while thy praise I write,
Contemn the bad, and emulate the best.
When most they rail, know then, they envy most. We think 'tis somewhat more than just to see. In vain they snarl aloof; a noisy crowd,
Shadows are but privations of the light; Like women's anger, impotent and loud. Yet, when we walk, they shoot before the sight; While they their barren industry deplore, With us approach, retire, arise, and fall;
Pass on secure, and mind the goal before.
Bear off the blast, and intercept the wind.
For hymns were sung in Eden's happy earth : Demanding souls, and loosen'd from the frame. But oh, the painter Muse, though last in place,
Prometheus, were he here, would cast away Has seiz'd the blessing first, like Jacob's race. His Adam, and refuse a soul to clay ;
Apelles' art an Alexander found; And either would thy noble work inspire,
And Raphael did with Leo's gold abound; Or think it warm enough without his fire.
But Homer was with barren laurel crown'd. But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise ; Thou hadst thy Charles awhile, and so had 1, This is the least attendant on thy praise :
But pass we that unpleasing image by. From hence the rudiments of art began;
Rich in thyself, and of thyself divine ; A coal, or chalk, first imitated man:
All pilgrims come and offer at thy shrine. Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall,
A graceful truth thy pencil can command; Gave outlines to the rude original ;
The fair themselves go mended from thy hand.
Likeness appears in every lineament;
THE COCK AND THE FOX: But likeness in thy work is eloquent. Though Nature there her true resemblance bears, OR, THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST. A nobler beauty in thy piece appears.
There liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, So warm thy work, so glows the generous frame, A widow, somewhat old, and very pocr: Flesh looks less living in the lovely dame.
Deep in her cell her cottage lonely stood, Thou paint'st as we describe, improving still, Well thatch'd and under covert of a wood. When on wild Nature we ingraft our skill; This dowager, on whom my tale I found, But not creating beauties at our will.
Since last she laid her husband in the ground, But poets are contin'd in narrower space, A simple sober life, in patience, led, To speak the language of their native place : And had but just enough to buy her bread : The painter widely stretches his command ; But huswifing the little Heaven had lent, Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land. She duly paid a groat for quarter rent; From hence, my friend, all climates are your own, And pinch'd her belly, with her daughters two, Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.
To bring the year about with much ado. All nations all immunities will give
The cattle in her homestead were three sows, To make you theirs, where'er you please to live; An ewe call's Mallie, and three brinded cows. And not seven cities, but the world would strive.
Her parlor-window stuck with herbs around, Sure some propitious planet then did smile, Of savory smell ; and rushes strew'd the ground. When first you were conducted to this isle :
A maple-dresser in her hall she had, Our genius brought you here, t' enlarge our fame : On which full many a slender meal she made; For your good stars are everywhere the same. For no delicious morsel pass d her throat; Thy matchless hand, of every region free, According to her cloth she cut her coat: Adopts our climate, not our climate thee.
No poignant sauce she knew, nor costly treat,
Before the day was done, her work she sped,
If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree, Her dancing was not hinder'd by the gout. "Tis only wanting to this age, not thee.
Her poverty was glad; her heart content ; Thy genius, bounded by the times, like mine, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapors meant. Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare design
Of wine she never tasted through the year, A more exalted work, and more divine.
But white and black was all her homely cheer: For what a song, or senseless opera,
Brown bread, and milk, (but first she skimm'd her Is to the living labor of a play ;
bowls) Or what a play to Virgil's work would be, And rashers of sing'd bacon on the coals. Such is a single piece to history.
On holy-days an egg, or two at most ; But we, who life bestow, ourselves must live : But her ambition never reach'd to roast, Kings cannot reign, unless their subjects give : A yard she had with pales inclos'd about, And they, who pay the taxes, bear the rule : Some high, some low, and a dry ditch without. Thus, thou, sometimes, art forc'd to draw a fool: Within this homestead, liv’d, without a peer, But so his follies in thy posture sink,
For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer; The senseless idiot seems at last to think.
So hight her cock, whose singing did surpass Good Heaven! that sots and knaves should be so The merry notes of organs at the mass. vain,
More certain was the crowing of the cock To wish their vile resemblance may remain! To number hours, than is an abbey-clock; And stand recorded, at their own request,
And sooner than the matin-bell was rung, To future days, a libel or a jest!
He clapp'd his wings upon his roost, and sung : Else should we see your noble pencil trace For when degrees fifteen ascended right, Our unities of action, time, and place:
By sure instinct he knew 'ıwas one at night. A whole compos’d of parts, and those the best, High was his comb, and coral red withal, With every various character exprest;
In dents embattled like a castle wall; Heroes at large, and at a nearer view :
His bill was raven-black, and shone like jet; Less, and at distance, an ignobler crew.
Blue were his legs, and orient were his feet: While all the figures in one action join,
White were his nails, like silver to behold, As tending to complete the main design.
His body glittering like the burnish'd gold. More cannot be by mortal art exprest;
This gentle cock, for solace of his life, But venerable age shall add the rest,
Six misses had, besides his lawful wife; For Time shall with his ready pencil stand; Scandal, that spares no king, though ne'er so good, Retouch your figures with bis ripening hand; Says, they were all of his own flesh and blood, Mellow your colors, and embrown the teint; His sisters both by sire and mother's side; Add every grace, wbich Time alone can grant; And sure their likeness show'd them near allied. To future ages shall your fame convey,
But make the worst, the monarch did no more And give more beauties than he takes away. Than all the Ptolemys had done before :
When incest is for interest of a nation,
But passing this, as from our tale apart, How dar'st thou tell thy dame thou art affear'd ? Dame Partlet was the sovereign of his heart : Hast thou no manly heart, and hast a beard ? Ardent in love, outrageous in his play,
“If aught from fearful dreams may be divin’d, He feather'd her a hundred times a day :
They signify a cock of dunghill kind. And she, that was not only passing fair,
All dreams, as in old Galen I have read, But was withal discreet, and debonnaire,
Are from repletion and complexion bred; Resolv'd the passive doctrine to fulfil,
From rising fumes of indigested food, Though loth ; and let him work his wicked will : And noxious humors that infect the blood : At board and bed was affable and kind,
And sure, my lord, if I can read aright,
Are certain symptoms in the canting style)
By this her husband's heart she did obtain ; When choler overflows, then dreams are bred
Red dragons, and red beasts, in sleep we view,
And wasps and hornets with their double wings. But, Oh! what joy it was to hear him sin Choler adust congeals our blood with fear, In summer, when the day began to spring, Then black bulls toss us, and black devils tear. Stretching his neck, and warbling in his throat, In sanguine airy dreams aloft we bound, * Solus cum sola," then was all his note.
With rheums oppress'd we sink, in rivers drown'd. For in the days of yore, the birds of parts
“ More I could say, but thus conclude my theme, Were bred to speak, and sing, and learn the liberal The dominating humor makes the dream.
Cato was in his time accounted wise, It happ'd, that, perching on the parlor-beam And he condemns them all for empty lies. Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream, Take my advice, and when we fly to ground, Just at the dawn; and sigh’d, and groan'd so fast, With laxatives preserve your body sound, As every breath he drew would be his last.
And purge the peccant humors that abound. Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his side,
I should be loth to lay you on a bier; Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cried And though there lives no 'pothecary near, For help from gods and men: and sore aghast I dare for once prescribe for your disease, She peck'd and pull’d, and waken'd him at last. And save long bills, and a damn'd doctor's fees. “Dear heart," said she, "for love of Heaven, declare “ Two sovereign herbs, which I by practice Your pain, and make me partner of your care.
know, You groan, sir, ever since the morning-light, And both at hand (for in our yard they grow ;) As something had disturb'd your noble spright." On peril of my soul shall rid you wholly
* And, madam, well I might,” said Chanticleer, Of yellow choler, and of melancholy: * Never was shrovetide cock in such a fear; You must both purge and vomit; but obey, Ev'n still I run all over in a sweat,
And for the love of Heaven make no delay. My princely senses not recover'd yet.
Since hot and dry in your complexion join,
Beware the Sun when in a vernal sign;
Replete with choler, I dare lay a groat,
A day or two before your laxative,
Your father's son was never born to fear." “Now fy for shame," quoth she, “ by Heaven above, “ Madam," quoth he, “gramercy for your care, Thou hast for ever lost ghy lady's love;
But Cato, whom you quoted, you may spare : No woman can endure a recreant knight,
Tis true, a wise and worthy man he seems, He must be bold by day, and free by night: And (as you say) gave no belief to dreams : Our sex desires a husband or a friend,
But other men of more authority, Who can our honor and his own defend;
And, by th' immortal powers, as wise as he, Wise, hardy, secret, liberal of his purse :
Maintain, with sounder sense, that dreams forebode A fool is nauseous, but a coward-worse :
For Homer plainly says they come from God.
“ Believe me, madam, morning dreams foreshow Ye magistrates, who sacred laws dispense, Th'event of things, and future weal or woe: On you I call, to punish this offence.' Some truths are not by reason to be tried,
“ The word thus given, within a little space, But we have sure experience for our guide. The mob came roaring out, and throng'd the place. An ancient author, equal with the best,
All in a trice they cast the cart to ground, Relates this tale of dreams among the rest. And in the dung. the murder'd body found;
“ Two friends or brothers, with devout intent, Though breathless, warm, and reeking from the On some far pilgrimage together went.
wound. It happen'd so, that, when the Sun was down, Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find They just arriv'd by twilight at a town:
Is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, That day had been the baiting of a bull,
Abhors the cruel ; and the deeds of night 'Twas at a feast, and every inn so full,
By wondrous ways reveals in open light: That no void room in chamber, or on ground, Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time, And but one sorry bed, was to be found :
But tardy Justice will o'ertake the crime.
And oft a speedier pain the guilty feels :
“So were they forc'd to part; one stay'd behind, Fresh from the fact, as in the present case, His fellow soughi what lodging he could find : The criminals are seiz'd upon the place : At last he found a stall where oxen stood,
Carter and host confronted face to face. And that he rather chose than lie abroad.
Stiff in denial, as the law appoints, 'Twas in a farther yard without a door;
On engines they distend their tortur'd joints : But, for his ease, well litter'd was the floor.
So was confession forc'd, th' offence was known,
· Here may you see that visions are to dread;
Within a trading town they long abide,
Full fairly situate on a haven's side ;
Trust not the winds, for fatal is the day,
The dreamer waken'd in a mortal fright :
What in his slumber he had seen and heard. For by that passage they my corpse convey:
His friend smild scornful, and with proud conterapi
Rejects as idle what his fellow dreamt.
Who follow Mercury the god of gain;
Let each man do as to his fancy seems, Then show'd his grisly wound; and last he drew I wait not, I, till you have better dreams. A piteous sigh, and took a long adieu.
Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes ; “The frighted friend arose by break of day, When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes And found the stall where late his fellow lay. Compounds a medley of disjointed things,
a Then of his impious host inquiring more,
A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings :
Sometimes forgotten things long cast behind And oft to share the spoils with robbers join'd. Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind. “ His dream confirm'd his thought : with troubled The nurse's legends are for truths receivid, look
And the man dreams but what the boy believ'd.
« Thus while he spoke, he heard the shouting crew While thou art constant to thy own true knight, That call'd aboard, and took his last adieu. While thou art mine, and I am thy delight, The vessel went before a merry gale,
All sorrows at thy presence take their flight. And for quick passage put on every sail :
For true it is, as in principio, But when least fear'd, and ev’n in open day, Mulier est hominis confusio. The mischief overtook her in the way:
Madam, the meaning of this Latin is,
For when by night I feel your tender side,
"By this example you are taught again, He said, and downward flew from off the beam.
Then crowing clapp'd his wings, th' appointed call, “Kenelm the son of Kenulph, Mercia's king, To chuck his wives together in the hall. Whose holy life the legends loudly sing,
By this the widow had unbarr'd the door, Warn'd in a dream, his murder did foretell And Chanticleer went strutting out before, From point to point as after it befell;
With royal courage, and with heart so light, All circumstances to his nurse he told
As show'd he scorn'd the visions of the night. (A wonder from a child of seven years old :) Now roaming in the yard he spurn'd the ground, The dream with horror heard, the good old wife And gave to Partlet the first grain he found. From treason counsel'd him to guard his life ; Then often feather'd her with wanton play, But close to keep the secret in his mind,
And trod her twenty times ere prime of day: For a boy's vision small belief would find. And took by turns and gave so much delight, The pious child, by promise bound, obey'd, Her sisters pin’d with envy at the sight. Nor was the fatal murder long delay'd :
He chuck'd again, when other corns he found, By Quenda slain, he fell before his time,
And scarcely deign’d to set a foot to ground;
And his seven wives came running at his call. Which at your better leisure you may read.
"Twas now the month in which the world began “ Macrobius too relates the vision sent
(If March beheld the first created man:)
“Of Daniel you may read in holy writ, Both month, and day, and hour, he measur'd right,
Thus numbering times and seasons in his breast, Who by a dream enslav'd th' Egyptian land, His second crowing the third hour confess'd. The years of plenty and of dearth foretold, Then turning, said to Partlet, “ See, my dear, When, for their bread, their liberty they sold. How lavish Nature has adorn'd the year; Nor must th' exalted butler be forgot,
How the pale primrose and blue violet spring, Nor he whose dream presag'd his hanging lot. And birds essay their throats, disus’d to sing :
“ And did not Cræsus the same death foresee, All these are ours; and I with pleasure see Rais'd in his vision on a lofty tree ?
Man strutting on two legs, and aping me:
An unfledg'd creature, of a lumpish frame,
“Much more I know, which I forbear to speak, Than, since I was an egg, I ever found.” For see, the ruddy day begins to break;
The time shall come when Chanticleer shall wish Let this suffice, that plainly I foresee
His words unsaid, and hate his boasted bliss : My dream was bad, and bodes adversity : The crested bird shall by experience know, But neither pills nor laxatives I like,
Jove made not him his masterpiece below; They only serve to make the well-man sick: And learn the latter end of joy is woe. Of these his gain the sharp physician makes, The vessel of his bliss to dregs is run, And often gives a purge, but seldom takes : And Heaven will have him taste his other tun. They not correct, but poison all the blood,
Ye wise, draw near, and hearken to my tale, And ne'er did any but the doctors good :
Which proves that of the proud by flattery fall : Their tribe, trade, trinkets, I defy them all, The legend is as true, I undertake, With every work of 'pothecary's hall.
As Tristran is, and Launcelot of the lake :
Which all our ladies in such reverence hold,
A fox, full-fraught with seeming sanctity,
And durst not sin before he said his prayer;