For when the canvas, with the mirror's truth,
Reflects the perfect form of age or youth,
The fond affections of the partial mind
The eye of judgment with delufion blind :
Each mother bids him brighter tints employ,
And give new fpirit to her booby boy;
Nor can the painter, with his utmost art,
Express the image in the lover's heart:
Unconscious of the change the seasons bring,
Autumnal beauty asks the rose of spring,
And vain felf-love, in every age the fame,
Will fondly urge fome vifionary claim.
The lucklefs painter, deftin'd to submit,
Mourns the loft likenefs which he once had hit,
And, doom'd to groundless cenfure, bears alone
The grievous load of errors not his own.
Nor is it Pride, or Folly's vain command,
The towering cap he marks with like distress,
And all the motley mass of female drefs.
The hoop extended with enormous fize,
'The corks that like a promontory rise;
The stays of deadly steel, in whose embrace
The tyrant Fashion tortures injur'd Grace.
But Art, despairing over fhapes like these
To caft an air of elegance and ease,
Invokes kind Fancy's aid-she comes to spread
Her magic spells--the Gothic forms are fled;
And fee, to crown the painter's juft defire,
Her free pofitions, and her light attire!
Th' ambitious artift wishes to pursue
This brilliant plan with more extensive view,
And with adopted character to give
A lasting charm to make the portrait live;
All points of art by one nice effort gain,
Delight the learned, and content the vain ;
Make hiftory to life new value lend *,
And in the comprehenfive picture blend
The ancient hero with the living friend.
* Ver. 77. See NOTE I.
Most fair device!" but, ah! what foes to sense,
What broods of motley monsters rife from hence !"
The strange pretenfions of each age and sex
These plans of fancy and of tafte perplex;
For male and female, to themselves unknown,
Demand a character unlike their own,
Till oft the painter to this quaint distress
Prefers the awkward shapes of common drefs.
Sweet girls, of mild and pensive softness, choose
The sportive emblems of the comic Muse;
And sprightly damfels are inclin'd to borrow
The garb of penitence, and tears of forrow :
While awkward pride, tho' fafe from war's alarms,
Round his plump body buckles ancient arms,
And, from an honeft juftice of the peace,
Starts up at once a demi-god of Greece;
Too firm of heart by ridicule to fail,
The finish'd hero crowns his country hall,
Ordain'd to fill, if fire his glory fpare,
The lumber-garret of his wifer heir.
Not lefs abfurd to flatter NERO's eyes
Arofe the portrait of coloffal fize :
Twice fifty feet th' enormous fheet was spread,
To lift o'er gazing flaves the monster's head,
When impious Folly fway'd Oppreffion's rod,
And fervile Rome ador'd the mimic God.
Think not, my friend, with fupercilious air,
I rank the portrait as beneath thy care.
Bleft be the pencil! which from death can save †
The femblance of the virtuous, wife, and brave;
That youth and emulation still may gaze,
On those inspiring forms of ancient days,
And, from the force of bright example bold,
Rival their worth," and be what they behold."
Bleft be the pencil! whofe confoling pow'r,
Soothing foft Friendship in her penfive hour,
Difpels the cloud, with melancholy fraught,
That absence throws upon her tender thought.
Bleft be the pencil! whofe enchantment gives
To wounded Love the food on which he lives.
Rich in this gift, tho' cruel ocean bear
The youth to exile from his faithful fair,
He in fond dreams hangs o'er her glowing cheek,
Still owns her present, and still hears her speak :
Oh! Love, it was thy glory to impart
Its infant being to this magic art!
Infpir'd by thee, the foft Corinthian maid,
Her graceful lover's fleeping form portray'd:
Her boding heart his near departure knew,
Yet long'd to keep his image in her view :
Pleas'd the beheld the fteady fhadow fall,
By the clear lamp upon the even wall:
The line she trac'd with fond precifion true,
And, drawing, doated on the form fhe drew:
Nor, as the glow'd with no forbidden fire,
Conceal'd the fimple picture from her fire,
His kindred fancy, ftill to nature just,
Copied her line, and form'd the mimic buft.
Thus from thy power, inspiring Love, we trace
The modell❜d image, and the pencil'd face!
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