Moonlight The Doge's daughter: Ariadne: Carmen Britannicum, or The song of Britain: Angelica, or The rape of Proteus: By Edward, Lord Thurlow |
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TO
ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ.
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 | Moonlight |  |
56
TO ROBERT SMIRKE, ESQ.
ON HIS BEAUTIFUL BUILDING OF COVENT GARDEN THEATRE.
When first I saw this fair and wond'rous pile,
The great example of the Dorick style,
And mark'd its wise proportions how severe,
And yet how smooth its beauty did appear,
The bright contention of each outward part,
Where Nature only was adorn'd by art,
Not overwhelm'd, as other builders use,
Who the rich stores of science still abuse,
But rais'd in separate glory to the sky,
As with the works of Nature born to vie:
Lost in delight, and in amaze I stood,
And pitied the old age, that, harsh and rude,
In humble dwellings the sweet scene pursu'd.
The great example of the Dorick style,
And mark'd its wise proportions how severe,
And yet how smooth its beauty did appear,
The bright contention of each outward part,
Where Nature only was adorn'd by art,
Not overwhelm'd, as other builders use,
Who the rich stores of science still abuse,
But rais'd in separate glory to the sky,
As with the works of Nature born to vie:
Lost in delight, and in amaze I stood,
And pitied the old age, that, harsh and rude,
In humble dwellings the sweet scene pursu'd.
57
And as God fram'd the perfect work of Man,
Where all proportion in its search began,
To be the book and alphabet of love,
Where mighty builders their first science prove;
So this, hereafter, to our eyes shall stand,
The great Ephesian temple of our land,
And sweet Apollo, which thy art has plann'd.
Where all proportion in its search began,
To be the book and alphabet of love,
Where mighty builders their first science prove;
So this, hereafter, to our eyes shall stand,
The great Ephesian temple of our land,
And sweet Apollo, which thy art has plann'd.
Nor less in beauty, though that beauty be
Of all mankind the pure epitome,
And therefore to our architects the source
Of sweet proportion, and unerring force,
Where they may learn, from this thy rule sublime,
To charm the skies, and to out-question time;
Not less in these, than in fair use we weigh
The wond'rous genius, that these walls display,
That speak thee, Smirke, and boldly I declare
The faultless truth, the great Palladio's heir.
Of all mankind the pure epitome,
And therefore to our architects the source
Of sweet proportion, and unerring force,
Where they may learn, from this thy rule sublime,
To charm the skies, and to out-question time;
Not less in these, than in fair use we weigh
The wond'rous genius, that these walls display,
That speak thee, Smirke, and boldly I declare
The faultless truth, the great Palladio's heir.
With fine delight, by Mathematicks taught,
A beauteous pile may to the skies be wrought,
In which the marble, or the stone, may vie
In likely form with brave eternity;
And wear a crown of beauty to outshine
Th' engilding Summer with its front divine;
But if the inward beauty be not like,
To win by use, as with delight to strike,
It shall be but a vizor, or a mask,
Which for intelligence we vainly ask;
Apollo to the eye; but to the mind
A vacant ideot, tongueless, deaf, and blind.
A beauteous pile may to the skies be wrought,
In which the marble, or the stone, may vie
In likely form with brave eternity;
58
Th' engilding Summer with its front divine;
But if the inward beauty be not like,
To win by use, as with delight to strike,
It shall be but a vizor, or a mask,
Which for intelligence we vainly ask;
Apollo to the eye; but to the mind
A vacant ideot, tongueless, deaf, and blind.
This faculty or soul, the light of Heaven,
Thy hand with prodigal award has giv'n,
And fram'd its various chambers to the use
Of boundless passion, bating the abuse;
For that were like the fool of elder date,
Who thought by vast dimension to be great:
Whereas in life, as in the mimick scene,
The perfect virtue lives still in the mean;
And firmly lives: this thy fine nature knew,
And gave example, when this plan you drew.
Thy hand with prodigal award has giv'n,
And fram'd its various chambers to the use
Of boundless passion, bating the abuse;
For that were like the fool of elder date,
Who thought by vast dimension to be great:
Whereas in life, as in the mimick scene,
The perfect virtue lives still in the mean;
And firmly lives: this thy fine nature knew,
And gave example, when this plan you drew.
And as the wisest nature is forbid,
By silence or disuse if it be hid,
And only years and strict attention can
Discourse the perfect nature of the man;
Yet not completely, if we finely sought
From the first cradle, till his age were brought
To fill the second with o'er-lab'ring ill,
So may we read thee, and admire thee still:
Yet hope not, till this squared stone shall fall
To crumbling dust, or fire consume it all,
That, in prophetick light, in Theatres
Gives type aud fashion of the World's decease,
An element, still fatal to the Stage,
That saves it from the sad expense of age,
(Wherein of old the Pope was wont to deal,
Now Bonaparte's vex'd malice doth reveal
Itself in fire;) we hope not to pursue
The map of knowledge, which in this you drew,
To full attainment; but content to find
Each day some new provision of your mind,
Expend our lives in wisely being taught,
How the great founders in their marble wrought
The book of wisdom, and the map of thought.
By silence or disuse if it be hid,
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Discourse the perfect nature of the man;
Yet not completely, if we finely sought
From the first cradle, till his age were brought
To fill the second with o'er-lab'ring ill,
So may we read thee, and admire thee still:
Yet hope not, till this squared stone shall fall
To crumbling dust, or fire consume it all,
That, in prophetick light, in Theatres
Gives type aud fashion of the World's decease,
An element, still fatal to the Stage,
That saves it from the sad expense of age,
(Wherein of old the Pope was wont to deal,
Now Bonaparte's vex'd malice doth reveal
Itself in fire;) we hope not to pursue
The map of knowledge, which in this you drew,
To full attainment; but content to find
Each day some new provision of your mind,
Expend our lives in wisely being taught,
How the great founders in their marble wrought
The book of wisdom, and the map of thought.
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Thy genius was confin'd, and yet thy art
Will not that secret to the world impart:
But, like Apelles, when he form'd in thought
His boundless picture, this brave house hast wrought:
Free, as when Phidias his keen chisel sway'd,
To carve the marble of the matchless maid,
That all the youth of Athens, in amaze
At that cold beauty, with sad tears did gaze;
(For love, t' expend itself, shall find no bar,
Or on a marble image, or a star;
But wander, in its nature unconfin'd,
As is thy genius, or th' unleased wind;)
Thou, on one side hemm'd in by th' publick ways,
Yet didst this temple to bright honour raise;
And in th' once pious Garden's near despite,
Didst lift these pillars, to outmatch the light:
Great Architect, with wonder I pursue
The fancy of thy draught; and find too few,
Had I a hundred tongues the words of praise,
Which they could yield me, while on this I gaze.
Will not that secret to the world impart:
But, like Apelles, when he form'd in thought
His boundless picture, this brave house hast wrought:
Free, as when Phidias his keen chisel sway'd,
To carve the marble of the matchless maid,
That all the youth of Athens, in amaze
At that cold beauty, with sad tears did gaze;
(For love, t' expend itself, shall find no bar,
Or on a marble image, or a star;
But wander, in its nature unconfin'd,
As is thy genius, or th' unleased wind;)
Thou, on one side hemm'd in by th' publick ways,
Yet didst this temple to bright honour raise;
And in th' once pious Garden's near despite,
Didst lift these pillars, to outmatch the light:
Great Architect, with wonder I pursue
The fancy of thy draught; and find too few,
Had I a hundred tongues the words of praise,
Which they could yield me, while on this I gaze.
Then be it so: let silence then persuade
Thy gen'rous nature, how our hearts are sway'd:
For silence is best praise, when wonder reigns:
Yet take this versc for thy immortal pains:
Thou here hast built a temple, and a dome,
Which shall exalt thee, for all time to come;
Unless the lightning, in especial love,
Shall this fair structure to the skies remove;
Snatch'd by the hand of Jove: though earthly fire
May be the outward signal of desire.
This may be so; and yet thy name shall live,
And to our public works new glory give,
Where thou and Shakspeare uncontroul'd shall stand,
The mix'd delight and wonder of our land,
Till fire unfeign'd shall mar the world's design,
And wrap in ruin this our brave confine,
Unbounded Poet! Architect divine!
Thy gen'rous nature, how our hearts are sway'd:
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Yet take this versc for thy immortal pains:
Thou here hast built a temple, and a dome,
Which shall exalt thee, for all time to come;
Unless the lightning, in especial love,
Shall this fair structure to the skies remove;
Snatch'd by the hand of Jove: though earthly fire
May be the outward signal of desire.
This may be so; and yet thy name shall live,
And to our public works new glory give,
Where thou and Shakspeare uncontroul'd shall stand,
The mix'd delight and wonder of our land,
Till fire unfeign'd shall mar the world's design,
And wrap in ruin this our brave confine,
Unbounded Poet! Architect divine!
| Moonlight | |