Or deeming meaneft what we greatest call, And fure, if aught below the feats divine 20 The rage of Pow'r, the blast of public breath, 25 The luft of Lucre, and the dread of Death. In vain to Deserts thy retreat is made; The Muse attends thee to thy filent shade: 30 When Int'reft calls off all her sneaking train, 36 Ev'n now, obfervant of the parting ray, Eyes the calm Sun-set of thy various Day, 40 EPISTLE ΤΟ JAMES CRA G G S, Esq. A SECRETARY of STAT E. Soul as full of Worth, as void of Pride, Which nothing feeks to fhew, or needs to hide, 5 } Which nor to Guilt nor Fear, its Caution owes, If not, 'tis I must be afham'd of You. Secretary of State.] In the Year 1720. P. 10 15 EPISTLE To Mr. JER VA S, With Mr. DRYDEN'S Translation of. FRESNOY'S Art of Painting. HIS Verfe be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse THE This, from no venal or ungrateful Muse. 5 Smit with the love of Sifter-Arts we came, And met congenial, mingling flame with flame; Like friendly colours found them both unite, And each from each contract new strength and light. NOTES. 15 Epift. to Mr. Fervas.] This Epiftle, and the two following, were written fome years before the reft, and originally printed in 1717. P. A How 20 How oft in pleafing tasks we wear the day, 25 With thee, on Raphael's Monument I mourn, NOTES. 41 • Frefnoy employed above twenty Years in finishing his Poem. P. ‡ D 4 Mufe! 50 Mufe! at that Name thy facred forrows fhed, Those tears eternal, that embalm the dead: Call round her Tomb each object of defire, Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire: Bid her be all that chears or foftens life, The tender fifter, daughter, friend and wife: Bid her be all that makes mankind adore; Then view this Marble, and be vain no more! Yet ftill her charms in breathing paint engage; Her modeft cheek fhall warm a future age. Beauty, frail flow'r that ev'ry feason fears, Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. Thus Churchill's race fhall other hearts surprize, And other Beauties envy Worsley's eyes ; Each pleafing Blount shall endless smiles bestow, And foft Belinda's blush for ever glow. 56 60 65 70 Oh lafting as thofe Colours may they fhine, Free as thy ftroke, yet faultless as thy line; New graces yearly like thy works display, Soft without weakness, without glaring gay; Led by fome rule, that guides, but not constrains; And finish'd more thro' happiness than pains. The kindred Arts fhall in their praise confpire, One dip the pencil, and one ftring the lyre. Yet fhould the Graces all thy figures place, And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face; Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll Strong as their charms, and gentle as their foul; With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgewater vie, And these be fung 'till Granville's Myra die; Alas! how little from the grave we claim! Thou but preferv'ft a Face, and I a Name. 75 EPISTLE |