University of Virginia Library

On the Lord Roos, Eldest Son of the Earl of Rutland.

When common Work for Painters hands doth call,
Rude artless Draughts do from their Pencils fall;

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5

Adapted to the judgment of the Crowd,
No Dancing Life doth make the Members proud:
But when a Celebrated Piece doth sit,
For Wisdom known, for Beauty, or for Wit;
The artfull strokes do Life and Vigor breathe,
And steal an Immortality from Death.
So Nature, when the Common Herd she makes,
Rough worthless Matter from base Rubbish takes:
Careless in any Shape she molds the Clay,
No Beauteous Characters thereon doth lay:
To the Dull lump no cost she doth impart,
Course the Materials and as course the Art.
But when some Godlike Birth she would improve,
That draws his Sparkling Line from Thundring Jove:
With her bright Seal she stamps him for her own,
In dazling Hieroglyphicks writes him down.
For's Body takes Materials, fair as those,
That do the Mass of Common Soul's compose:
Fills it with every Vertue, every Grace,
And heavenly Beauties in the Mind doth place:
Vertues, that soar far above Common ken,
Known but to Angels, and Seraphick Men!

So Nature, Princely Youth, with you did deal,
With Excellence did Soul and Body fill:
And that it might not Casual appear,
A Turn of Greatness and a Generous Air,
A shining Spirit thrô the Whole did bear.
Rays, such as crown the Gods, o're all did fly,
And every thing did breathe Divinity.
Others with tedious steps to Vertue rise.
Break to 't thrô crowds of pressing Enemies:
Must violence on headstrong Nature lay,
Unhinge the Passions, er'e they will obey:

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6

Which, like tame Lions, if not rul'd by Art,
Will back into their Natural wildness start:
Like Countries, that but newly are subdu'd,
Will soon rebell and cast off Servitude.