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Bright as the stone, with which the glass we wound, Inspiring as the juice, which with the glass is crown'd.
Oh, WILKINSON! who can of beauty sing, And not an offering to thy altar bring ? Who can describe the young, the sweet, the fair, And not thy charms, thy wondrous charms declare ? Unsullied lustre dwells upon thy face, Nor eye can find a stain, nor fancy mend a grace.
One pleasure more, indulgent Muse, afford, Pleasure supreme, when FORRESTER's the word! Desert so vast commands thy utmost lays, And sure 'tis almost impious not to praise ; Praise dare I call it, when each boldest line Shows like weak twilight to meridian shine ? Lo! mien, complexion, features, voice, conspire, Perfection's brands, to set the world on fire; Oh she's all wonders! Heaven's whole excellence Meets in her frame, and fills our every sense; That grace, which most ennobles who can name, Where all's divinely great, entitled all to fame ? As well the man, who travels all the day Scorch'd with the sun, might tell the fiercest ray ; He knows the lucid author of his flames,
But with his parching heat alike he charges all the beams.
Ye numerous CHARMERS, who remain unsung,
Forgive th' unequal tribute of my tongue,
Not that your conquests fail, my strains expire,
I own your pow'rs and feel a silent fire;
No more my present raptures can pursue,
But when my Muse takes breath, I'll soar, and sing
DESPONDING Artist, talk no more
Of Beauties of the days of yore,
Of Goddesses, renown'd in Greece,
And ZEUXIS' composition-piece,
Where ev'ry nymph that could at most
Some single grace or feature boast,
Contributed her favorite charm
To perfect the ideal form.
'Twas CYNTHIA's brow, 'twas LESBIA's eye,
'Twas CLOE's cheeks' vermilion dye;
ROXANA lent the noble air,
Dishevell'd flow'd ASPASIA's hair,
And CUPID much too fondly press'd
His mimic mother THAIS' breast.
Antiquity how poor thy use !
A single Venus to produce!
Friend Eckardt, ancient story quit,
Nor mind whatever Pliny writ ;
Felibien and Fresnoy declaim,
Who talk of Raphael's matchless fame.
Of Titian's tints, Corregio's grace,
And Carlo's each Madonna face,
As if no Beauties now were made,
But Nature had forgot her trade.
'Twas Beauty guided Raphael's line
From heavenly Women, styl'd divine;
They warm'd old Titian's fancy too,
And what he could not taste he drew:
Think you Devotion warm'd his breast
When Carlo with such looks express'd
His virgins, that her vot'ries feel
Emotions-not, I'm sure, of zeal ?
In Britain's isle observe the Fair,
And curious choose your models there;
Such patterns as shall raise your name
To rival sweet Corregio's fame :
Each single piece shall be a test,
And Zeuxis' patchwork be a jest ;
Who ransack'd Greece, and cull'd the age
To bring one Goddess on the stage:
On your each canvass we 'll admire
The charms of the whole heav'nly choir.
Majestic Juno shall be seen
In HARVEY'S glorious aweful mien.
Where FITZROY moves, resplendent Fair;
So warm her bloom, sublime her air;
Her ebon tresses, form'd to grace,
And heighten while they shade her face :
Such troops of martial youth around,
Who court the hand that gives the wound;
'Tis Pallas, Pallas stands confess'd,
Though STANHOPE's more than Paris bless'd.
So CLEVELAND shown in warlike pride,
By Lely's pencil deify'd:
So GRAFTON, matchless dame, commands
The fairest work of Kneller's hands:
The blood that warm'd each amorous court,
In veins as rich still loves to sport:
And George's age beholds restor❜d,
What William boasted, Charles ador'd.
For Venuses the Trojan ne'er
Was half so puzzled to declare :
Ten Queens of Beauty, sure I see!
Yet sure the true is EMILY:
Such majesty of youth and air,
Yet modest as the village fair:
Attracting all, indulging none,
Her beauty like the glorious Sun
Thron'd eminently bright above,
Impartial warms the world to love.
In smiling CAPEL's beauteous look Rich Autumn's Goddess is mistook,