ODE XXVII.
[Soe should you have my Picture, would it change]
1
Soe should you have my Picture, would it change
And varie to the Time;
But when I see
Art permanent and Nature fade, how Strange
Would it appear to me!
And twitt my Slime
As weake Materialls, to the Painter's stuffe.
There youthfull Still, in my Selfe bald or rough,
With Age and Time enough.
2
'Twould trouble me, when I, with frosted hairs,
Should looke at what I was,
And see my selfe
Sangvine and fresh, my Eyes there quicke and Cleare;
And I, a Sordid Elfe.
What a sweet Glasse
Were this to make me mad! and love againe
My youthfull Follies, and but change the Straine;
Doating, for Light and vaine.
3
Noe, would you see me better, you who presse
To have my Picture tooke,
Beyond all Art;
I leave it here, my selfe; it will expresse
More then the formall looke
Or outward part.
A better draught I leave you; doe not Strike
My Feature to the Cunning of Vandyke;
This, this is farre more like.
4
Here looke vpon Me, as I am in Truth;
Let everie Leafe present
Some severall part;
And draw 'em into forme, to the iust growth
Of my intendement;
To pussle Art,
In her loud boast, and something leave behind
Vnto my Freinds; that whosoe lookes, may find
The Effigies of my Mind.
5
And though, perhaps, the Colours are but poore,
And some defects appeare
To the strict Eye;
You will not Censure want of Cunning more,
To pourtray Truth, if I
Have bristlie haire,
Or my head bald, or beard in Cop'ses grow;
Will Art soe trim me, that they must not show?
Who then my Face could know?
6
Had I bene more exact, I had bene lesse;
And though I might have put
More varnish on;
It had bene Time ill spent, and might expresse
More fine proportion;
But, without doubt,
Lesse to the Life; and I would now appeare
In my Iust Symmetrie: though plaine, yet Cleare;
Soe, may you see me here.
