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On that, a Cage. You twirled, and lo!
The Twain were one.
Said MATT, "E'en so,
Here's the Solution in a Word:-
THE TWO PAINTERS
N 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—
The GENIUS of the ARTS (now known
Two Painters met Her in the Park.
Whether She wore the Robe of Air
The Lady, as a Goddess should,
Bade Them ask of Her what They would. "Then, Madam, my request," says BRISK, Giving his Ramillie a whisk, "Is that your Majesty will crown My humble Efforts with Renown. Let me, I beg it-Thanks to YouBe praised for Everything I do, Whether I paint a Man of Note, Or only plan a Petticoat." "Nay," quoth the other, "I confess" (This One was plainer in his Dress, And even poorly clad), "for me, I scorn Your Popularity.
Why should I care to catch at once
Let me do well, indeed, but find
Each in his Way, achieved Success;
"Mitte sectari, ROSA quo locorum
HAD a vacant dwelling-
As naught can serve the telling,
Then, Rose, you passed the window,— I see you passing yet,
Ah, what could I within do,
When, Rose, our glances met! You snared me, Rose, with ribbons, Your rose-mouth made me thrall, Brief-briefer far than Gibbon's, Was my "Decline and Fall."