He showed (the Trick is nowise new)
That Nothing we believe is true;
But chiefly that Mistake is rife
Touching the point of After-Life;
Here all were wrong from PLATO down:
His Price (in Boards) was Half-a-Crown.
The Thing created quite a Scare :—
He got a Letter from VOLTAIRE,
Naming him Ami and Confrère;
Besides two most attractive Offers
Of Chaplaincies from noted Scoffers.
He fell forthwith his Head to lift,
To talk of "I and DR. SW-FT";
And brag, at Clubs, as one who spoke,
On equal Terms, with BOLINGbroke.
But, at the last, a Missive came
That put the Copestone to his Fame.
The Boy who brought it would not wait:
It bore a Covent-Garden Date;—
A woful Sheet with doubtful Ink,
And Air of Bridewell or the Clink.
It ran in this wise:-Learned Sir!
We, whose Subscriptions follow here,
Desire to state our Fellow-feeling
In this Religion you're revealing.
You make it plain that if so be
We 'scape on Earth from Tyburn Tree,
There's nothing left for us to fear
In this or any other Sphere.
We offer you our Thanks; and hope
Your Honor, too, may cheat the Rope!
With that came all the Names beneath,
AS BLUESKIN, JERRY CLINCH, MACHEATH,
BET CARELESS, and the Rest-a Score Of Rogues and Bona Robas more.
This Newgate Calendar he read:
"Tis not recorded what he said.
HE most oppressive Form of Cant Is that of your Art-Dilettant :Or rather "was." The Race, I own, To-day is, happily, unknown.
A Painter, now by Fame forgot,
Had painted-'tis no matter what;
Enough that he resolved to try
The Verdict of a critic Eye.
The Friend he sought made no Pretence
To more than candid Common-sense,
Nor held himself from Fault exempt.
He praised, it seems, the whole Attempt.
Then, pausing long, showed here and there
That Parts required a nicer Care,—
A closer Thought. The Artist heard,
Expostulated, chafed, demurred.
Just then popped in a passing Beau,
Half Pertness, half Pulvilio ;-
One of those Mushroom Growths that spring
From Grand Tours and from Tailoring;—
And dealing much in terms of Art
Picked up at Sale and auction Mart.
Straight to the Masterpiece he ran
With lifted Glass, and thus began,
Mumbling as fast as he could speak :-
"Sublime !-prodigious !-truly Greek!
That Air of Head' is just divine;
That contour GUIDO, every line;
That Forearm, too, has quite the Gusto
Of the third Manner of ROBUSTO
Then, with a Simper and a Cough,
He skipped a little farther off:—
"The middle Distance, too, is placed
Quite in the best Italian Taste;
And Nothing could be more effective
Than the Ordonnance and Perspective. .
You've sold it ?-No ?-Then take my word,
I shall speak of it to MY LORD.
What! I insist. Don't stir, I beg.
Adieu!" With that he made a Leg,
Offered on either Side his Box,-
So took his Virtú off to COCK'S.
The Critic, with a Shrug, once more
Turned to the Canvas as before.
"Nay," said the Painter-"I allow
The Worst that you can tell me now.
'Tis plain my Art must go to School,
To win such Praises-from a FOOL!"
IN Art some hold Themselves content
If they but compass what they meant; Others prefer, their Purpose gained, Still to find Something unattained— Something whereto they vaguely grope With no more Aid than that of Hope. Which are the Wiser? Who shall say! The prudent Follower of GAY
Declines to speak for either View,
But sets his Fable 'twixt the two.
Once-'twas in good Queen ANNA'S Time-
While yet in this benighted Clime
The GENIUS of the ARTS (now known
On mouldy Pediments alone)
Protected all the Men of Mark,
Two Painters met Her in the Park.
Whether She wore the Robe of Air
Portrayed by VERRIO and LAGUERRE;
Or, like BELINDA, trod this Earth,
Equipped with Hoop of monstrous Girth,
And armed at every Point for Slaughter
With Essences and Orange-water,
I know not but it seems that then,
After some talk of Brush and Pen,—
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