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How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the day,
20 How oft review; each finding like a friend Something to blame, and something to commend?
What fatt'ring fcenes our wand'ring fancy wrought, Rome's pompous glories rifing to our thought! Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly, 25 Fir'd with Ideas of fair Italy. With thee, on Raphael's Monument I mourn, Or wait inspiring Dreams at Maro's Urn: With thee repose, where Tully once was laid, Or seek fome Ruin's formidable shade : While fancy brings the vanish'd piles to view, And builds imaginary Rome a new, Here thy well-study'd marbles fix our eye; A fading Fresco here demands a figh : Each heav'nly piece unwearied we compare, 35 Match Raphael's grace with thy lov'd Guido's air, Carracci's strength, Correggio's softer line, Paulo's free ftroke, and Titian's warmth divine.
How finish'd with illustrious toil appears This small, well-polith'd Gem, the * work of years! Yet ftill how faint by precept is expreft The living image in the painter's breast ? Thence endless streams of fair Ideas flow, Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow; Thence Beauty, waking all her forms, fupplies 45 An Angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes.
NOTE s. Fresnoy employed above twenty Years in finihing his Poem. P. # D 4
Muse! at that Name thy sacred sorrows shed, Those tears eternal, that embalm the dead : Call round her Tomb each object of desire, Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire : 50 Bid her be all that chears or softens 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 shall warm a future
age. Beauty, frail Aow'r that ev'ry season fears, Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprize, And other Beauties envy Worsley's eyes ;
6. Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow, And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow.
Oh lasting as those Colours may they shine, Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line ; New graces yearly like thy works display, Soft without weakness, without glaring gay ; Led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains; And finish'd more thro' happiness than pains. The kindred Arts shall in their praise conspire, One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. 70 Yet should 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, 7.5 And these be sung 'till Granville's Myra die; Alas ! how little from the grave we claim ! Thou but preserv'st a Face, and I a Name.
E P I S T L E
To Miss BLOUNT.
With the WORKS of VOITURE.
N these gay thoughts the Loves and Grace
His easy Art may happy Nature seem,
Let the strict life of graver mortals be
Let mine, an innocent
Too much your Sex is by their forms confin'd,
The Gods, to curse Pamela with her pray’rs,
But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and you Are destin'd Hymen's willing Victim too ; Trust not too much your now resistless charms, Those, Age or Sickness, foon or late disarms: 60 Good humour only teaches charms to last, Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past; Love, rais'd on Beauty, will like that decay, Our hearts may bear its slender chain a day; As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn, 65 A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn; This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong, The willing heart, and only holds it long.
Thus * Voiture's early care still fhone the same, And Monthausier was only chang'd in name: 70 By this, ev'n now they live, ev’n now they charm, Their Wit still sparkling, and their flames still warm.
Now crown'd with Myrtle, on th’ Elysian coast, Amid those Lovers, joys his gentle Ghost: Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines you view, And finds a fairer Ramboüillet in you. The brightest eyes of France inspir’d his Muse; The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse; And dead, as living, 'tis our Author's pride Still to charm those who charm the world beside.
* Mademoiselle Pauler. P.