 | Original Poems |  |
To a Painter: drawing her Picture.
Let All that's charming, All that's good, appearIn ev'ry Touch:—Thou can'st not flatter here.
With trembling Awe trace out each beauteous Line,
Consider: She Thou pictur'st is divine.
Observe each Feature, mark each blooming Grace,
And all the Heav'n which opens in her Face;
Then stop thy Hand at the surprizing View,
Nor madly dare beyond what Art can do.
| Original Poems | |