 | An epistle to Angelica Kauffman |  |
AN EPISTLE TO ANGELICA KAUFFMAN.
Through Europe's Realms, when all the Strife
Of human Labors ends with Life,
We render back, as is most just,
The perish'd Mortal to the Dust;
Whilst Egypt's Sons, with anxious Care,
Each potent Gum and Spice prepare,
That may, exempted from Decay,
For Ages keep their wretched Clay;
And to the Pyramid confide
The vain Records of human Pride!—
Hence, still full many a daring Pile
Stupendous, skirts the swelling Nile;
Still thro' Saccara's sandy Plains
A wide sepulchral Scene remains;
And Memphis' lonely Deserts groan
Beneath th'incumbent Weight of Stone.
Of human Labors ends with Life,
We render back, as is most just,
The perish'd Mortal to the Dust;
Whilst Egypt's Sons, with anxious Care,
Each potent Gum and Spice prepare,
That may, exempted from Decay,
For Ages keep their wretched Clay;
And to the Pyramid confide
The vain Records of human Pride!—
8
Stupendous, skirts the swelling Nile;
Still thro' Saccara's sandy Plains
A wide sepulchral Scene remains;
And Memphis' lonely Deserts groan
Beneath th'incumbent Weight of Stone.
When cold in Death our Members lie,
When mute the Voice, and clos'd the Eye,
When that pure vital Spirit's fled
Which warm'd the Heart, and rul'd the Head,
When what possess'd both Sense and Thought,
To a mere lifeless Clod is brought,
Ah! why each subtile Art enforce
To check dissolving Nature's Course!
Or why inshrine with so much Pains
The humbled Mortal's poor Remains!
Which better to the Earth were giv'n
To wait the wise Award of Heav'n!—
Whole Ages tho' secure they rest,
Hid in their Hieroglyphic Chest,
Yet, Time the Pyramid decays,
And opens all its secret Ways,
Excites th'exploring Trav'ler's Wonder,
Or the wild pilf'ring Arab's Plunder,
Who tear the Mummy from its Tomb
To grace some Virtuoso's Room,
Divide with bart'ring Jews the Prize,
And sell the Race of Ptolomies!—
When mute the Voice, and clos'd the Eye,
When that pure vital Spirit's fled
Which warm'd the Heart, and rul'd the Head,
When what possess'd both Sense and Thought,
To a mere lifeless Clod is brought,
Ah! why each subtile Art enforce
To check dissolving Nature's Course!
Or why inshrine with so much Pains
The humbled Mortal's poor Remains!
9
To wait the wise Award of Heav'n!—
Whole Ages tho' secure they rest,
Hid in their Hieroglyphic Chest,
Yet, Time the Pyramid decays,
And opens all its secret Ways,
Excites th'exploring Trav'ler's Wonder,
Or the wild pilf'ring Arab's Plunder,
Who tear the Mummy from its Tomb
To grace some Virtuoso's Room,
Divide with bart'ring Jews the Prize,
And sell the Race of Ptolomies!—
Rather, O Man, aspire to save
Something that shall resist the Grave;
Thy mould'ring Dust's not worth a Claim,
But uncorrupt preserve thy Fame;
Embalm'd by Virtue, it shall rise
And waft its Odours to the Skies,
Which undiminish'd shall prevail
When all Arabia's Spices fail!—
Something that shall resist the Grave;
Thy mould'ring Dust's not worth a Claim,
But uncorrupt preserve thy Fame;
10
And waft its Odours to the Skies,
Which undiminish'd shall prevail
When all Arabia's Spices fail!—
When Egypt's Page engag'd my Thought,
Reflections such as these it taught;
Yet, not a Folly Man surveys
But some wise Hint to Man conveys!
We the World's beaten Tract explore,
And profit by what pass'd before;
Advantage reap from each Abuse,
And learn that all Things have their Use.
This Truth your Palette doth impart,
Sweet Mistress of the Mimic Art,
On which, 'mongst all the splendid Glows
Of each bright Colour that it shews,
I see the pounded Mummy laid,
To give the soft transparent Shade,
Warm the cold Tints, the dark ones raise,
Or all the finish'd Picture glaze.
Reflections such as these it taught;
Yet, not a Folly Man surveys
But some wise Hint to Man conveys!
We the World's beaten Tract explore,
And profit by what pass'd before;
Advantage reap from each Abuse,
And learn that all Things have their Use.
This Truth your Palette doth impart,
Sweet Mistress of the Mimic Art,
On which, 'mongst all the splendid Glows
Of each bright Colour that it shews,
11
To give the soft transparent Shade,
Warm the cold Tints, the dark ones raise,
Or all the finish'd Picture glaze.
Yes, my Angelica, to you
This I devote, a Tribute due;
Who can misplac'd the Off'ring deem
To Her who hath inspir'd the Theme?
Justly to you it doth belong,
Worthy of ev'ry Poet's Song!—
Th'admiring Muses hover round
Where Genius such as yours is found;
'Tis theirs its Beauty to display,
To lead it forth to open Day,
And put the modest Veil aside
Which half its Excellence would hide.—
Could I your bright Ideas catch,
Sweet Paintress, or your Pencil snatch,
Or on a Voice like yours rely,
To wake the Soul of Harmony!
Then might my Verses happier flow,
With Spirit worthier you might glow,
Then in firm Outlines would I trace
Your vary'd Pow'r, your vary'd Grace,
Make you on Art's bright Summit stand,
Upheld by Truth, and Nature's Hand;
And in her modest Robe should be
Attendant, sweet Simplicity;
Whilst Fame light hov'ring o'er your Head,
Should her protecting Pinions spread,
With Clarion shrill your Praise proclaim,
Proud to enroll a Female Name,
And give the Wreath you've justly won,
Equall'd by few, excell'd by none.—
This I devote, a Tribute due;
Who can misplac'd the Off'ring deem
To Her who hath inspir'd the Theme?
Justly to you it doth belong,
Worthy of ev'ry Poet's Song!—
Th'admiring Muses hover round
Where Genius such as yours is found;
'Tis theirs its Beauty to display,
To lead it forth to open Day,
And put the modest Veil aside
Which half its Excellence would hide.—
12
Sweet Paintress, or your Pencil snatch,
Or on a Voice like yours rely,
To wake the Soul of Harmony!
Then might my Verses happier flow,
With Spirit worthier you might glow,
Then in firm Outlines would I trace
Your vary'd Pow'r, your vary'd Grace,
Make you on Art's bright Summit stand,
Upheld by Truth, and Nature's Hand;
And in her modest Robe should be
Attendant, sweet Simplicity;
Whilst Fame light hov'ring o'er your Head,
Should her protecting Pinions spread,
With Clarion shrill your Praise proclaim,
Proud to enroll a Female Name,
And give the Wreath you've justly won,
Equall'd by few, excell'd by none.—
13
Born in those happy, peaceful Plains
Where uncorrupted Freedom reigns,
Th'Ideas of your youthful Mind
Were, like your Genius, unconfin'd,
Each Sentiment enlarg'd and free,
The just Effect of Liberty!—
And when with rip'ning Years and Thought
Gay Italy's soft Scenes you sought,
Eager to tread that classic Ground
Which spread its Glory wide around,
Whose soft'ring Clime in Days of yore
So many finish'd Artists bore,
No Wonder that their Works imprest
The noblest Feelings on your Breast;
No Wonder, ardent to admire,
If their great Labours fann'd Desire,
'Till catching Emulation's Flame,
You dar'd to rival them in Fame!
The Treasures which they left behind
Enrapt'ring thus your rising Mind,
Each bright Conception brighter grew,
And all their Skill shone forth in you.—
Where uncorrupted Freedom reigns,
Th'Ideas of your youthful Mind
Were, like your Genius, unconfin'd,
Each Sentiment enlarg'd and free,
The just Effect of Liberty!—
And when with rip'ning Years and Thought
Gay Italy's soft Scenes you sought,
Eager to tread that classic Ground
Which spread its Glory wide around,
Whose soft'ring Clime in Days of yore
So many finish'd Artists bore,
No Wonder that their Works imprest
The noblest Feelings on your Breast;
No Wonder, ardent to admire,
If their great Labours fann'd Desire,
14
You dar'd to rival them in Fame!
The Treasures which they left behind
Enrapt'ring thus your rising Mind,
Each bright Conception brighter grew,
And all their Skill shone forth in you.—
Then Florence felt anew that Pride
Which liv'd with Medicis, and dy'd;
Her former prosp'rous Years recalls,
And welcomes you within her Walls;
Born to restore the Pencil's Reign,
And bid the Canvass breathe again.—
Old Arno too his Head uprear'd
To view the Nymph whom all rever'd,
Brushing the Oziers from his Eyes
He look'd, and brighten'd with Surprize;
He mark'd her Talents, mark'd her Grace,
And Nature saw in ev'ry Trace:
Then with a hollow Voice exclaim'd,
“How were my Tuscan Shores once fam'd!
“When ev'ry Art here rang'd along,
“When ev'ry Muse attun'd her Song!
“My Brother Tiber mourns like me
“The sad Reverse of Destiny;
“For his deserted Banks, like mine,
“No more with rising Genius shine!
“Our bright meridian Hour is past,
“And Gothic Gloom advances fast;
“Science no more exalts her Head,
“The Muses droop, the Arts are fled!
“Sweet Daughter of the Mountains come!
“Dispel our Fears, avert our Doom,
“Recall the Fugitives, and try
“To lure them by your Harmony.—
“If haply Painting be your Choice,
“She'll ne'er resist your soothing Voice,
“But fly with Ardour to your Arms,
“And by your Aid regain her Charms,
“Which shall her pristine Pow'rs restore,
“Vig'rous as e'er they shone before.—
“'Tis Yours to renovate her Fame,
“Hers, to immortalize your Name.”—
Which liv'd with Medicis, and dy'd;
Her former prosp'rous Years recalls,
And welcomes you within her Walls;
Born to restore the Pencil's Reign,
And bid the Canvass breathe again.—
Old Arno too his Head uprear'd
To view the Nymph whom all rever'd,
Brushing the Oziers from his Eyes
He look'd, and brighten'd with Surprize;
15
And Nature saw in ev'ry Trace:
Then with a hollow Voice exclaim'd,
“How were my Tuscan Shores once fam'd!
“When ev'ry Art here rang'd along,
“When ev'ry Muse attun'd her Song!
“My Brother Tiber mourns like me
“The sad Reverse of Destiny;
“For his deserted Banks, like mine,
“No more with rising Genius shine!
“Our bright meridian Hour is past,
“And Gothic Gloom advances fast;
“Science no more exalts her Head,
“The Muses droop, the Arts are fled!
“Sweet Daughter of the Mountains come!
“Dispel our Fears, avert our Doom,
16
“To lure them by your Harmony.—
“If haply Painting be your Choice,
“She'll ne'er resist your soothing Voice,
“But fly with Ardour to your Arms,
“And by your Aid regain her Charms,
“Which shall her pristine Pow'rs restore,
“Vig'rous as e'er they shone before.—
“'Tis Yours to renovate her Fame,
“Hers, to immortalize your Name.”—
Thus Arno prophesy'd; and you
Prove all his fond Prediction true.
Inspiring Fancy takes your Hand,
And gives you up her Magic Wand;
Her radiant Bow fair Iris lends;
And Judgment on your Steps attends:
All Italy with raptur'd Ears
The Wonders of your Pencil hears,
Rome's seven Hills your Praise resound,
Old Tiber rolls it wide around,
And distant Britain's Sea-girt Coast
Exults such Excellence to boast;
Exults, but sees its Joy o'ercast,
What Triumph ever long could last!
Griev'd, she th'approaching Day deplores,
Destin'd to bear you from her Shores;
To her, so well your Value known,
She sighs to reckon you her own;
Yet go where'er you will, she'll feel
For your fair Fame a Parent's Zeal,
Still with each eager Hope will burn,
And anxious wait your wish'd Return.
Prove all his fond Prediction true.
17
And gives you up her Magic Wand;
Her radiant Bow fair Iris lends;
And Judgment on your Steps attends:
All Italy with raptur'd Ears
The Wonders of your Pencil hears,
Rome's seven Hills your Praise resound,
Old Tiber rolls it wide around,
And distant Britain's Sea-girt Coast
Exults such Excellence to boast;
Exults, but sees its Joy o'ercast,
What Triumph ever long could last!
Griev'd, she th'approaching Day deplores,
Destin'd to bear you from her Shores;
To her, so well your Value known,
She sighs to reckon you her own;
Yet go where'er you will, she'll feel
For your fair Fame a Parent's Zeal,
18
And anxious wait your wish'd Return.
So, when in fullest Radiance bright,
The setting Sun eludes our Sight,
And sliding down the western Hills
New Regions with its Splendor fills;
Feeling how much we want its Beams
A tedious Gloom its Absence seems;
Nor could we e'er its Loss sustain
Did we not trust 'twould rise again.
The setting Sun eludes our Sight,
And sliding down the western Hills
New Regions with its Splendor fills;
Feeling how much we want its Beams
A tedious Gloom its Absence seems;
Nor could we e'er its Loss sustain
Did we not trust 'twould rise again.
Nor think, Angelica, the Muse
Your Sense with Flatt'ry dare abuse;
No—Friendship dictates all I write,
And Truth with Friendship must unite!
That Friendship which, enamour'd, sees
The various Claims by which you please.
Perfection'd as you have your Art,
Perfection'd more your feeling Heart;
'Tis that, it still far lovelier views,
That Heart which Virtue's Line pursues,
Awake to every tender Tye,
Each Call of soft Humanity;
Which, gentle as the blameless Dove,
Warm'd with the purest filial Love,
Close folds an aged Parent's Breast,
As Ivy doth the Oak invest.—
Nor least its Praise, or its Defence,
That Blush of modest Diffidence,
Which o'er its Worth a Veil would throw,
And its own Merits disavow.
Your Sense with Flatt'ry dare abuse;
No—Friendship dictates all I write,
And Truth with Friendship must unite!
That Friendship which, enamour'd, sees
The various Claims by which you please.
19
Perfection'd more your feeling Heart;
'Tis that, it still far lovelier views,
That Heart which Virtue's Line pursues,
Awake to every tender Tye,
Each Call of soft Humanity;
Which, gentle as the blameless Dove,
Warm'd with the purest filial Love,
Close folds an aged Parent's Breast,
As Ivy doth the Oak invest.—
Nor least its Praise, or its Defence,
That Blush of modest Diffidence,
Which o'er its Worth a Veil would throw,
And its own Merits disavow.
Then, by your native Genius fir'd,
By an approving World admir'd,
Boldly pursue your bright Career,
Your Art embellish, and endear.—
Th'Historic Muse unfurls her Scroll,
And points out Deeds to charm your Soul;
Fondly to win your Favor tries,
And turns on you her wistful Eyes.—
Go, bid the storied Canvass show
Th'instructive Scenes of human Woe—
The strugg'ling Patriot's noble Strife—
The pious Martyr's Scorn of Life—
The Tyrant humbled to the Dust—
The Resignation of the Just—
Describe the bright embattled Host—
The Captive chain'd—the Hero lost—
The Mind, where Guilt's keen Anguish dwells—
The Eye, that its own Sorrow tells—
The varied Passions' bold Appeals—
The Strength which self-arm'd Virtue feels—
These shall in strongest Colours live,
And their improving Moral give.
By an approving World admir'd,
20
Your Art embellish, and endear.—
Th'Historic Muse unfurls her Scroll,
And points out Deeds to charm your Soul;
Fondly to win your Favor tries,
And turns on you her wistful Eyes.—
Go, bid the storied Canvass show
Th'instructive Scenes of human Woe—
The strugg'ling Patriot's noble Strife—
The pious Martyr's Scorn of Life—
The Tyrant humbled to the Dust—
The Resignation of the Just—
Describe the bright embattled Host—
The Captive chain'd—the Hero lost—
The Mind, where Guilt's keen Anguish dwells—
The Eye, that its own Sorrow tells—
The varied Passions' bold Appeals—
The Strength which self-arm'd Virtue feels—
21
And their improving Moral give.
From the tall Mountain's tow'ring Side,
Which Snows, and hanging Forests hide,
Whose rugged Steeps and awful Height
Have claim'd our Wonder and Delight;
With equal Joy our Sight we throw
Down to the tranquil Vale below,
And let it rove the humbler Plain,
Where Life's serener Pleasures reign.
So, oft when more inviting, seems
Less splendid, but more pleasing Themes,
In tend'rest Touches, calmly gay,
Let your chaste Pencil then display
The Triumph of congenial Minds—
The willing Knot Affection binds—
Parental Fondness, filial Grace—
Deep rooted Friendship's warm Embrace—
The rosy Blush of virgin Youth—
The Smile of Innocence, and Truth—
The lovely Tear that Pity sheds—
The Joy a gen'rous Action spreads;—
Such Scenes, with all your Taste exprest,
Must captivate each feeling Breast.
Which Snows, and hanging Forests hide,
Whose rugged Steeps and awful Height
Have claim'd our Wonder and Delight;
With equal Joy our Sight we throw
Down to the tranquil Vale below,
And let it rove the humbler Plain,
Where Life's serener Pleasures reign.
So, oft when more inviting, seems
Less splendid, but more pleasing Themes,
In tend'rest Touches, calmly gay,
Let your chaste Pencil then display
The Triumph of congenial Minds—
The willing Knot Affection binds—
22
Deep rooted Friendship's warm Embrace—
The rosy Blush of virgin Youth—
The Smile of Innocence, and Truth—
The lovely Tear that Pity sheds—
The Joy a gen'rous Action spreads;—
Such Scenes, with all your Taste exprest,
Must captivate each feeling Breast.
Nor let the Portrait want your Pow'rs,
With this, unbend your graver Hours;
The living Features, living Air,
Your Pencil must both claim, and share.—
Domestic Pleasure asks from you
The faithful Wife, the Husband true;
Or, that our ravish'd Sight may rove
O'er Pledges of connubial Love.—
With tend'rest Sense Affection eyes
The Semblance dear of those we prize;
Each sweet Remembrance set afloat,
We on the breathing Image doat,
Which whilst it decorates our Walls,
The present cheers, the past recalls!
With this, unbend your graver Hours;
The living Features, living Air,
Your Pencil must both claim, and share.—
Domestic Pleasure asks from you
The faithful Wife, the Husband true;
Or, that our ravish'd Sight may rove
O'er Pledges of connubial Love.—
23
The Semblance dear of those we prize;
Each sweet Remembrance set afloat,
We on the breathing Image doat,
Which whilst it decorates our Walls,
The present cheers, the past recalls!
Posterity from your just Hand
Will also urge its fond Demand.
The Forms of those whom we admire
Are ever Objects of Desire;
Whether by Virtue they're endear'd,
Whether for Learning they're rever'd,
For Wisdom fam'd, for Valour rais'd,
For Honour lov'd, for Talents prais'd!—
Thus, from th'Oblivion of the Grave
You'll snatch the Good, the Wife, the Brave.
Thus, you'll to future Times transmit
The Bard, Philosopher, and Wit;
Such, as for noblest Deeds were known,
Such, as once sat on Beauty's Throne.—
The Mind's inquisitive to trace
The Character in ev'ry Face;
Pleas'd, we each Lineament explore,
And sigh o'er those who are no more.
Will also urge its fond Demand.
The Forms of those whom we admire
Are ever Objects of Desire;
Whether by Virtue they're endear'd,
Whether for Learning they're rever'd,
For Wisdom fam'd, for Valour rais'd,
For Honour lov'd, for Talents prais'd!—
Thus, from th'Oblivion of the Grave
You'll snatch the Good, the Wife, the Brave.
24
The Bard, Philosopher, and Wit;
Such, as for noblest Deeds were known,
Such, as once sat on Beauty's Throne.—
The Mind's inquisitive to trace
The Character in ev'ry Face;
Pleas'd, we each Lineament explore,
And sigh o'er those who are no more.
Toils such as these your Genius call,
A Genius equal to them all;
Each Effort of your Art display,
And on Fame's Pinions wing your Way;
The Muse at Distance marks your Flight,
Pursues, and cannot quit your Sight:
For you, this votive Lay she wreathes;
For you, her Prophecy she breathes;
Unlike the Sybil's mystic Leaves,
A Prophecy the World believes;
Then turn, Angelica, and hear,
“Time shall protect a Name so dear,
“Shall guard your Works, and hand them down
“Amongst the foremost in Renown;
“And rank you with that splendid Train
“Which dignify'd a Leo's Reign!”
A Genius equal to them all;
Each Effort of your Art display,
And on Fame's Pinions wing your Way;
The Muse at Distance marks your Flight,
Pursues, and cannot quit your Sight:
For you, this votive Lay she wreathes;
For you, her Prophecy she breathes;
25
A Prophecy the World believes;
Then turn, Angelica, and hear,
“Time shall protect a Name so dear,
“Shall guard your Works, and hand them down
“Amongst the foremost in Renown;
“And rank you with that splendid Train
“Which dignify'd a Leo's Reign!”
Whilst to your Palette's polish'd Side,
Your Range of Colours is apply'd;
Which from deep Shades to purest white,
Must all in Harmony unite;
Whose intermingled Tints compose
Each varying Shape the Canvass knows,
Assume the living Features' Place,
And give them Substance, Form, and Grace;
The Passions mark of ev'ry Kind,
And strongly character the Mind;
Or the gay flowing Robe express,
With ev'ry Circumstance of Dress,
So truly manag'd ev'ry Fold,
It seems to be what we behold,
Sweet Paintress! mix'd with these, be laid
The Mummy, and still lend its Aid;
Rich with the Gums of Ages past,
'Twill bind each fleeting Colour fast;
Make ev'ry Shadow clearer show,
And ev'ry Light more brilliant glow.—
But the experienc'd Hand alone
The daring Enterprize should own;
Whose Hazard just Success insures
To Judgment only such as Yours!—
Your Range of Colours is apply'd;
Which from deep Shades to purest white,
Must all in Harmony unite;
Whose intermingled Tints compose
Each varying Shape the Canvass knows,
Assume the living Features' Place,
And give them Substance, Form, and Grace;
26
And strongly character the Mind;
Or the gay flowing Robe express,
With ev'ry Circumstance of Dress,
So truly manag'd ev'ry Fold,
It seems to be what we behold,
Sweet Paintress! mix'd with these, be laid
The Mummy, and still lend its Aid;
Rich with the Gums of Ages past,
'Twill bind each fleeting Colour fast;
Make ev'ry Shadow clearer show,
And ev'ry Light more brilliant glow.—
But the experienc'd Hand alone
The daring Enterprize should own;
Whose Hazard just Success insures
To Judgment only such as Yours!—
27
Then ravag'd Egypt shall no more
Her plunder'd Pyramids deplore,
In whose oblivious Chambers kept
Its Monarchs, and its Chiefs have slept,
In silent, melancholy State,
Shelter'd from all the Storms of Fate,
Whilst half the Kingdoms of the Earth
Have sunk, and giv'n to new ones Birth.
Tho' since they left their House of Clay,
Some thousand Years have roll'd away;
Their rescu'd Reliques shall by You
Again the Face of Day review;
Call'd from the Darkness of the Tomb
Once more apparent Life resume;
Transform'd, support a nobler Part,
And as before, exist by Art;
Bright, in unfading Colours rise,
And ask the Homage of our Eyes.
Her plunder'd Pyramids deplore,
In whose oblivious Chambers kept
Its Monarchs, and its Chiefs have slept,
In silent, melancholy State,
Shelter'd from all the Storms of Fate,
Whilst half the Kingdoms of the Earth
Have sunk, and giv'n to new ones Birth.
Tho' since they left their House of Clay,
Some thousand Years have roll'd away;
Their rescu'd Reliques shall by You
Again the Face of Day review;
Call'd from the Darkness of the Tomb
Once more apparent Life resume;
Transform'd, support a nobler Part,
And as before, exist by Art;
28
And ask the Homage of our Eyes.
The pulveriz'd Nitocris
now
May grace some Queen's majestic Brow;
Or on some Heroine's Visage shine
Where Vengeance marks the great Design;
That Vengeance which its Falchion draws
Alone in rigid Virtue's Cause.—
And whensoe'er Your Art shall trace
Such Kings as live a Throne's Disgrace,
Who would in Chains their People bind,
And subjugate the free-born Mind;
Then let Cephrenes' Atoms live,
The Piece a darker Shadow give,
And rouze in all th'indignant Fire
Which Tyrants ever must inspire.—
Whilst Cheop's Daughter's lov'd Remains,
Who in proud Cairo's sandy Plains
Th'immortal Pyramid uprear'd,
To guard a Father she rever'd;
Shall strengthen in the Virgin Eye
Th'expressive Look of Piety:
In each soft Feature stand confest,
And warmer tinge the feeling Breast.—
Then Rhodope again may reign,
And all her former Charms regain;
Whose artful, fascinating Smile
Once triumph'd over half the Nile!
Her Reliques may adorn the Fair,
Flow in the Ringlets of the Hair,
In Beauty's Form Protection seek,
Or ambush in a dimpled Cheek.—
Asychis too whose royal Breath
Commanded ev'ry Thing but Death;
A glitt'ring Slave to Eastern Pride
Shall into some rich Drap'ry glide;
Live in the splendid Mantle's Fold,
And mark what most he lov'd of old.—
But, Mycerinus , wise and just,
To nobler Ends must serve thy Dust;
Which its congenial Pow'rs shall join
To picture Virtues such as thine;
In manly Character dispense
The Glow of sweet Benevolence;
And strongly from the Canvass dart
Th'Emotions of a gen'rous Heart!—
May grace some Queen's majestic Brow;
Or on some Heroine's Visage shine
Where Vengeance marks the great Design;
That Vengeance which its Falchion draws
Alone in rigid Virtue's Cause.—
And whensoe'er Your Art shall trace
Such Kings as live a Throne's Disgrace,
29
And subjugate the free-born Mind;
Then let Cephrenes' Atoms live,
The Piece a darker Shadow give,
And rouze in all th'indignant Fire
Which Tyrants ever must inspire.—
Whilst Cheop's Daughter's lov'd Remains,
Who in proud Cairo's sandy Plains
Th'immortal Pyramid uprear'd,
To guard a Father she rever'd;
Shall strengthen in the Virgin Eye
Th'expressive Look of Piety:
30
And warmer tinge the feeling Breast.—
Then Rhodope again may reign,
And all her former Charms regain;
Whose artful, fascinating Smile
Once triumph'd over half the Nile!
Her Reliques may adorn the Fair,
Flow in the Ringlets of the Hair,
In Beauty's Form Protection seek,
Or ambush in a dimpled Cheek.—
Asychis too whose royal Breath
Commanded ev'ry Thing but Death;
A glitt'ring Slave to Eastern Pride
Shall into some rich Drap'ry glide;
31
And mark what most he lov'd of old.—
But, Mycerinus , wise and just,
To nobler Ends must serve thy Dust;
Which its congenial Pow'rs shall join
To picture Virtues such as thine;
In manly Character dispense
The Glow of sweet Benevolence;
And strongly from the Canvass dart
Th'Emotions of a gen'rous Heart!—
'Tis thus, Angelica, to raise
Your Fame, the East its Tribute pays!
Resigns its Dead to Your Command,
And claims fresh Glory from your Hand;
Your Art for Ages shall insure
What Pyramids could not secure!
The scatter'd Reliques they inshrin'd
To Your enliv'ning Touch consign'd,
Shall in far happier Forms appear,
And new Existence seem to wear;
From You, Repute, and Pow'r derive,
And Egypt's Kings once more revive.—
Your Fame, the East its Tribute pays!
Resigns its Dead to Your Command,
And claims fresh Glory from your Hand;
32
What Pyramids could not secure!
The scatter'd Reliques they inshrin'd
To Your enliv'ning Touch consign'd,
Shall in far happier Forms appear,
And new Existence seem to wear;
From You, Repute, and Pow'r derive,
And Egypt's Kings once more revive.—
THE END.
Coire, the Capital of the Grisons, enjoys the Boast of being the Birth Place of the Lady alluded to.
This Passage, as well as the third and fourth Lines in Page 12, will be more clearly understood, when the Reader is informed that the Ear, the Voice, and the Taste for Music, which Nature hath superadded to the extraordinary Talents of this Lady, might have distinguished her as one of the first Singers in Europe, had not her superior Passion for Painting totally engaged her Mind, and induced her to reserve this captivating Accomplishment, for the elegant Entertainment of her Friends.
The Names after mentioned, are supposed to be some of those who erected the most remarkable of the Pyramids; but this is a Subject so deeply involved in the Darkness of Antiquity, that both the Greek and Arabian Historians are much divided in their Opinions concerning this Matter.
Nitocris, as Herodotus informs us, was Queen of Egypt, and succeeded her Brother in the Throne, on his being murdered by that people— She was a Woman of great Address and Intrepidity, and began her Reign by revenging her Brother's Death on those who had been the Perpetrators of it.
This Prince reigned 56 Years over Egypt—was a great Tyrant— shut up the Temples—forbade all Sacrifices—and lived both hated and feared by his oppressed Subjects.
The largest Pyramid is by many conjectured to have been compleated, if not built, by this Lady, whose Name History hath not given us. There are many absurd Traditions about her, to which little Credit can be given.
One of the smaller Pyramids hath been by some ascribed to this Lady, who is highly celebrated in Antiquity for the Conquests her Beauty made.
| An epistle to Angelica Kauffman | |