A Collection of Poems Occasionally Writ On Several Subjects. By Isaac Thompson |
 | I. |
| II. |
TO Mr. LANCASTER, |
 | A Collection of Poems |  |
75
TO Mr. LANCASTER,
Upon his Painting a Prospect of KENDAL-CASTLE.
Materiem superabat opus. ------
Ovid.
Ovid.
Accept the Numbers of a friendly Muse,
Nor what your real Merit claims, refuse.
Not as a Rival, I attempt to raise
This Monument, but found it on your Praise:
And were my Lines as easy as your Teint,
Or could I write as well as you can Paint;
From you, my Verse a lasting Life should claim,
And you from me should purchase endless Fame.
Nor what your real Merit claims, refuse.
Not as a Rival, I attempt to raise
This Monument, but found it on your Praise:
And were my Lines as easy as your Teint,
Or could I write as well as you can Paint;
76
And you from me should purchase endless Fame.
For many Years, the Structure had been cast
In Heaps of Rubbish, and a ruin'd Waste;
And scarce the lonely, mould'ring Wall maintains
One broken Sketch of old Magnificence:
'Till you by happy Skill redeem'd the Tow'rs,
And made the Views of former Ages, ours;
Each Turret from it's Ruins rear'd a-new,
And all the Building rose again, by you:
And we now see (instructed by your Hand)
How ancient Times beheld the Castle stand.
In Heaps of Rubbish, and a ruin'd Waste;
And scarce the lonely, mould'ring Wall maintains
One broken Sketch of old Magnificence:
'Till you by happy Skill redeem'd the Tow'rs,
And made the Views of former Ages, ours;
Each Turret from it's Ruins rear'd a-new,
And all the Building rose again, by you:
And we now see (instructed by your Hand)
How ancient Times beheld the Castle stand.
As o'er the Piece I travel with my Eyes,
I find a thousand recent Beauties rise;
Now o'er the Hill, I trace the blooming Scenes,
And Nature dawns thro' Art, in all her Greens:
Now to the Structure I methinks am led,
And rising Arches swell above my Head:
See, lofty Tow'rs and spacious Columns rise!
Shade half the Hill, and proudly keep the Skies:
While azure Heav'ns with Light adorn the whole,
Or Clouds delude the Sight, and seem to roll.
How bold each Stroke, how free the Touches fall,
And what a strong Relievo bodies all!
Nature her self, may view thy Work and boast,
She has receiv'd from thee, and nothing lost.
Not Kent (where her delightful Waters flow
In limpid Waves, in silent rolls, and slow.)
Paints the steep Hill, and in her Bosom bears,
Each verdant Plant the rising Summit wears,
Nor do those fleecy Images which lie
In that ideal Vault, that neither Skie,
More lively Figure out these Packs which move,
O'er the wide Concave of the Heav'n above,
Nor more the Fancy or the Eye incite.
Than thy well teinted Shade, and beauteous Light.
Thus, while it most delights thee to excel,
In painting Images of Nature well,
She ready waits to jump at thy Command,
And Worlds start out, obedient to thy Hand;
But would that Skill which shines so blooming here,
Begin Designs more noble to prefer!
To teach on Canvas, Majesty to shine,
And reconcile our Factions with a Line;
To win our Passions over, as we look;
And mend our various Errours with a Stroke.
Or draw old Contests in a figur'd Strife,
Renew past Times, and call the Dead to Life;
Thence learn us, present, happy Days to prize,
And look on civil Broils with fearful Eyes.
I find a thousand recent Beauties rise;
Now o'er the Hill, I trace the blooming Scenes,
And Nature dawns thro' Art, in all her Greens:
Now to the Structure I methinks am led,
And rising Arches swell above my Head:
See, lofty Tow'rs and spacious Columns rise!
Shade half the Hill, and proudly keep the Skies:
While azure Heav'ns with Light adorn the whole,
Or Clouds delude the Sight, and seem to roll.
77
And what a strong Relievo bodies all!
Nature her self, may view thy Work and boast,
She has receiv'd from thee, and nothing lost.
Not Kent (where her delightful Waters flow
In limpid Waves, in silent rolls, and slow.)
Paints the steep Hill, and in her Bosom bears,
Each verdant Plant the rising Summit wears,
Nor do those fleecy Images which lie
In that ideal Vault, that neither Skie,
More lively Figure out these Packs which move,
O'er the wide Concave of the Heav'n above,
Nor more the Fancy or the Eye incite.
Than thy well teinted Shade, and beauteous Light.
Thus, while it most delights thee to excel,
In painting Images of Nature well,
She ready waits to jump at thy Command,
And Worlds start out, obedient to thy Hand;
But would that Skill which shines so blooming here,
Begin Designs more noble to prefer!
To teach on Canvas, Majesty to shine,
And reconcile our Factions with a Line;
78
And mend our various Errours with a Stroke.
Or draw old Contests in a figur'd Strife,
Renew past Times, and call the Dead to Life;
Thence learn us, present, happy Days to prize,
And look on civil Broils with fearful Eyes.
Nor shall the Muse be backward then, to raise
Thy Name encreasing, and thy growing Praise;
To future Times shall she thy Fame prolong,
In deathless Verse, if Deathless be my Song.
And tho' each Stroke shall fade, thy Skill could give;
Still fresh thy Paint, in lasting Strains shall live.
Thy Name encreasing, and thy growing Praise;
To future Times shall she thy Fame prolong,
In deathless Verse, if Deathless be my Song.
And tho' each Stroke shall fade, thy Skill could give;
Still fresh thy Paint, in lasting Strains shall live.
| A Collection of Poems | |