Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Painter, give o'er; here ends thy feeble Art;
For how wilt thou describe th'Immortal Part?
Tho' Kneller's or tho' Raphael's Skill were thine,
Or Titian's Colours on the Cloth did shine,
The labour'd Piece must yet half-finish'd stand,
And mock the Weakness of the Master's Hand.

Colours are but the Phantoms of the Day,
With that they're born, with that they fade away;
Like Beauty's Charms, they but amuse the Sight,
Dark in themselves, till, by Reflexion bright,
With the Sun's Aid to rival him they boast,
But Light withdrawn in their own Shades are lost.
Then what are these t'express the living Fire,
The Lamp within, that never can expire?

158

That Work can only by the Muse be wrought;
Souls must paint Souls, and Thought delineate Thought.

Then Painter-Muse begin, and unconfin'd
Draw boldly first a large Extent of Mind:
Yet not a barren Waste, an empty Space,
For Crouds of Virtues fill up all the Place.
See! o'er the rest fair Piety presides,
As the bright Sun th'inferior Planets guides;
To the Soul's Pow'rs it vital Heat supplies,
And hence a thousand worthy Habits rise.
So when that genial Father of the Spring
Smiles on the Meads, and wakes the Birds to sing,
And from the heav'nly Bull his Influence sheds
On the Parterres and fruitful Garden Beds,
A thousand beauteous Births shoot up to Sight,
A thousand Buds unfolding meet the Light;
Each useful Plant does the rich Earth adorn,
And all the Flow'ry Universe is born.

O! cou'd my Verse describe this sacred Queen,
This first of Virtues, awful, yet serene,
Plain in her native Charms, nor too severe,
Free from false Zeal, and superstitious Fear;
Such and so bright, as by th'Effects we find
She dwells in this selected happy Mind,
The Source of ev'ry Good shou'd stand confest,
And all who see, applaud the Heav'n-born Guest!

159

Proceed, my Muse, next in the Picture place
Diffusive Charity to Human Race.
Justice thou need'st not in the Draught express,
Since ev'ry Greater still includes the Less.
What were the Praise if Virtue idly stood,
Content alike to do nor Harm nor Good?
Tho' shunning Ill, unactive and supine,
Like painted Suns, that warm not while they shine?
The nobler Soul such narrow Life disdains,
Flows out, and meets another's Joys and Pains,
Tasteless of Blessings, if possest alone,
And in imparted Pleasures seeks its own.
Hence grows the Sense of Friendship's generous Fires,
Hence Liberality the Heart inspires,
Hence Streams of Good in constant Actions flow,
And Man to Man becomes a God below!

A Soul thus form'd, and such a Soul is here,
Needs not the dangerous Test of Riches fear,
But, unsubdu'd to Wealth, may safely stand,
And count o'er Heaps with an unsully'd Hand.
Heav'n that knew this, and where t'intrust its Store,
And blessing One, oft' blesses many more,
First gave a Will to give, then fitly join'd
A liberal Fortune to a liberal Mind.

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With such a graceful Ease her Bounty flows;
She gives, and scarce that she's the Giver knows,
But seems receiving most, when she the most bestows.
Rich in her self, well may she value more
Her Wealth within, the Mind's immortal Store;
Passions subdu'd, and Knowledge free from Pride,
Good Humour, ever to good Sense ally'd,
Well-season'd Mirth, and Wisdom unsevere,
An equal Temper, and a Heart sincere;
Gifts that alone from Nature's Bounty flow,
Which Fortune may display, but not bestow;
For Wealth but sets the Picture more in Sight,
And brings the Beauties or the Faults to Light.
How true th'Esteem, that's founded in Desert?
How pleasing is the Tribute of the Heart?
Here willing Duty ne'er was paid in vain,
And e'en Dependence cannot feel its Chain,
Yet whom She thus sets free She closer binds,
(Affection is the Chain of grateful Minds)
And, doubly blessing her adopted Care,
Makes them her Virtues with her Fortune share,
Leads by Example, and by Kindness guards,
And raises first the Merit She rewards.

Oft' too abroad She casts a friendly Eye,
As She wou'd Help to ev'ry Need supply.

161

The Poor near her almost their Cares forget,
Their Want but serves as Hunger to their Meat;
For, since her Soul's ally'd to Humankind,
Not to her House alone her Store's confin'd,
But passing on, its own full Banks o'erflows,
Enlarg'd, and deals forth Plenty as it goes.
Thro' some fair Garden thus a River leads
Its watry Wealth, and first th'Inclosure feeds,
Visits each Plant, and ev'ry Flow'r supplies;
Or, taught in sportive Fountains to arise,
Casts sprinkled Show'rs o'er ev'ry figur'd Green;
Or in Canals walks round the beauteous Scene,
Yet stops not there, but its free Course maintains,
And spreads gay Verdure thro' th'adjacent Plains;
The lab'ring Hinds with Pleasure see it flow,
And bless those Streams by which their Pastures grow.

O gen'rous Use of Pow'r! O virtuous Pride!
Ne'er may the Means be to such Souls deny'd,
Executors of Heav'n's all-bounteous Will,
Who well the great First-giver's Ends fulfil,
Who from Superior Heights still looking down
On glitt'ring Heaps, which scarce they think their own,
Despise the empty Show of useless State,
And only wou'd by doing Good be Great!

162

Now pause a while, my Muse, and then renew
The pleasing Task, and take a second View!
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
A Train of Virtues yet undrawn appear;
Here just Oeconomy, strict Prudence there;
Near Liberality they ever stand;
This guides her Judgment, That directs her Hand.
By these, see wild Profusion chas'd away,
And wanton Luxury, like Birds of Prey.
Whilst meek Humility, with Charms serene,
Forbids vain Pomp t'approach the hallow'd Scene;
Yet thro' her Veil the more attracts the Sight,
And on her Sister-Virtues casts a Light.

But wherefore starts the Painter-Muse, and why,
The Piece unfinish'd, throws the Pencil by?
Methinks, (she says,) Humility I hear,
With gentle Voice reproving, cry—Forbear!
Forbear, rash Muse! nor longer now commend,
Lest whom thou wou'dst describe, thou shou'dst offend,
And in her Breast a painful Glowing raise,
Who, conscious of the Merit, shuns the Praise.