Three poetical epistles To Mr. Hogarth, Mr. Dandridge, and Mr. Lambert, masters in the art of painting. Written by Mr. Mitchell |
 |
| 1. | THE FIRST EPISTLE.
|
| 2. |
| 3. |
 | Three poetical epistles |  |
1
THE FIRST EPISTLE.
To Mr. HOGARTH, An Eminent History and Conversation Painter.
------ Micat inter omnes.
Hor.
Hor.
Hogarth
, by Merit of your own,
A Candidate for first Renown!
Accept the Praise a Friend bestows,
A Friend, who pays but what he owes;
For still the more your Works he views,
The more he borrows for the Muse:
Discharging Debt to Hogarth due,
One Score scarce clear'd, he chalks anew.
A Candidate for first Renown!
Accept the Praise a Friend bestows,
A Friend, who pays but what he owes;
For still the more your Works he views,
The more he borrows for the Muse:
Discharging Debt to Hogarth due,
One Score scarce clear'd, he chalks anew.
2
When, with an unavailing Care,
He tries to sing the lovely Fair,
Attempts in Comic Scenes to shine,
Or boldly draws a Tragic Line,
Your better Genius guides his Flight,
A fiery Pillar in his Night!
His Muse outsoars her self, amaz'd,
By Hogarth's great Assistance rais'd.
Just to Elisha grew inspir'd,
By sage Elijah's Spirit fir'd.
So, but for Virtues in Him found,
Christ's fishing Followers had been drown'd.
He tries to sing the lovely Fair,
Attempts in Comic Scenes to shine,
Or boldly draws a Tragic Line,
Your better Genius guides his Flight,
A fiery Pillar in his Night!
His Muse outsoars her self, amaz'd,
By Hogarth's great Assistance rais'd.
Just to Elisha grew inspir'd,
By sage Elijah's Spirit fir'd.
So, but for Virtues in Him found,
Christ's fishing Followers had been drown'd.
The Labours of your Hand present
Our various Sense and Speech in Paint.
Such vital Instinct each receives,
We think one joys, another grieves!
Here, the fond Lover's Pains appear;
The Hero's Fire and Fury there!
The silent Hypocrites exert
Such Pow'r, and play so well their Part,
That different Passions they bestow,
Affright with Fear, and melt with Woe,
Themselves unconscious what they cause,
And how our Hearts the Master draws.
Our various Sense and Speech in Paint.
Such vital Instinct each receives,
We think one joys, another grieves!
Here, the fond Lover's Pains appear;
The Hero's Fire and Fury there!
The silent Hypocrites exert
Such Pow'r, and play so well their Part,
That different Passions they bestow,
Affright with Fear, and melt with Woe,
3
And how our Hearts the Master draws.
You have the Skill to catch the Grace,
And secret Meanings of a Face;
From the quick Eyes to snatch the Fire,
And limn th'Ideas they inspire;
To picture Passions, and, thro' Skin,
Call forth the living Soul within.
More vivid Tinctures never glow
In Summer Cloud, or wat'ry Bow.
If Life Pygmalion's Iv'ry fir'd,
Divinity your Draughts inspir'd;
For, thro' the Shades, Promethean Flame
Kindles your Canvass into Fame.
And secret Meanings of a Face;
From the quick Eyes to snatch the Fire,
And limn th'Ideas they inspire;
To picture Passions, and, thro' Skin,
Call forth the living Soul within.
More vivid Tinctures never glow
In Summer Cloud, or wat'ry Bow.
If Life Pygmalion's Iv'ry fir'd,
Divinity your Draughts inspir'd;
For, thro' the Shades, Promethean Flame
Kindles your Canvass into Fame.
Painting alone is not your Praise:
You know the World, and all its Ways;
Life, high and low, alike command,
And shew, each Work, a Master-Hand.
One Piece, with Wonder and Amaze,
For Hours together we cou'd gaze,
Imagining that it is your best,
And more a Favourite than the rest:
But, when we turn around our Eyes
To view another, what Surprize
And Rapture all our Spirits fill?
In all is shewn a Godlike Skill!
Our Senses are so well deceiv'd,
That Likeness is the Life believ'd.
So Birds to the feign'd Clusters flew,
Which Zeuxis, with such Justice, drew.
You know the World, and all its Ways;
Life, high and low, alike command,
And shew, each Work, a Master-Hand.
One Piece, with Wonder and Amaze,
For Hours together we cou'd gaze,
Imagining that it is your best,
And more a Favourite than the rest:
4
To view another, what Surprize
And Rapture all our Spirits fill?
In all is shewn a Godlike Skill!
Our Senses are so well deceiv'd,
That Likeness is the Life believ'd.
So Birds to the feign'd Clusters flew,
Which Zeuxis, with such Justice, drew.
Large Families obey your Hand;
Assemblies rise at your Command;
Your Pencil peoples where it goes,
And Worlds of new Creation shows.
Just so Deucalion's generous Strife
Inspir'd the Senseless Stones with Life.
Your Genius, like a Ball of Fire,
The farther it is thrown, and higher,
Blazes the more, and, on each Hand,
Breaks out the Glory of the Land.
You make us say with Sheba's Queen,
When Israel's Monarch she had seen,
One Half of Hogarth is not known,
But what our Eyes behold, we own.
Assemblies rise at your Command;
Your Pencil peoples where it goes,
And Worlds of new Creation shows.
Just so Deucalion's generous Strife
Inspir'd the Senseless Stones with Life.
Your Genius, like a Ball of Fire,
The farther it is thrown, and higher,
Blazes the more, and, on each Hand,
Breaks out the Glory of the Land.
You make us say with Sheba's Queen,
When Israel's Monarch she had seen,
One Half of Hogarth is not known,
But what our Eyes behold, we own.
5
Shakespeare in Painting, still improve,
And more the World's Attention move.
Self-taught, in your great Art excel,
And from your Rivals bear the Bell.
But, Rivals—you have none to fear—
Who dares, in such a Style, appear?
Dutch and Italian, wide Extreams,
Unite, in You, their diff'rent Names!
Still be esteem'd the First and Last,
Orig'nal in your Way and Taste;
Tho Thornhill's Self shou'd jealous grow,
And try your Doings to out-do:
But Thornhill, mingling Flame with Flame,
Will view with Pride your rising Fame;
Not, meanly hazarding his own,
Attempt to rival your Renown,
Lest He shou'd be by Fate pursu'd,
Like Saturn, whom his Son subdu'd.
And more the World's Attention move.
Self-taught, in your great Art excel,
And from your Rivals bear the Bell.
But, Rivals—you have none to fear—
Who dares, in such a Style, appear?
Dutch and Italian, wide Extreams,
Unite, in You, their diff'rent Names!
Still be esteem'd the First and Last,
Orig'nal in your Way and Taste;
Tho Thornhill's Self shou'd jealous grow,
And try your Doings to out-do:
But Thornhill, mingling Flame with Flame,
Will view with Pride your rising Fame;
Not, meanly hazarding his own,
Attempt to rival your Renown,
Lest He shou'd be by Fate pursu'd,
Like Saturn, whom his Son subdu'd.
June 12th, 1730.
| Three poetical epistles | |