Poems and Translations :: :: University of Virginia Library

Could I with thee, O Thornhill, bear a part,
And join the Poet's with the Painter's Art,
(Tho' both share mutually each common Name,
Their Thoughts, their Genius and Design the same!)
The Muse, with Features neither weak nor faint,
Should draw her Sister-Art in speaking Paint.
But while admiring Thine and Nature's Strife,
I see each Touch just starting into Life,

From side to side with various Raptures tost,
Amid the visionary Scenes I'm lost.

Methinks as thrown upon some Fairy Land,
Amaz'd we know not how, nor where we stand;
While tripping Phantoms to the Sight advance,
And gay Ideas lead the mazy Dance:
While wondring we behold in every part
The beauteous Scenes of thy creating Art.

By such degrees thy Colours rise and fall,
And breathing flush the animated Wall;
That the bright Objects which our Eyes survey,
Ravish the Mind, and steal the Soul away;
Our Footsteps by some secret Pow'r are crost,
And in the Painter all the Bard is lost.

Thus in a Magick Ring we stand confin'd,
While subtle Spells the fatal Circle bind;
In vain we strive and labour to depart,
Fix'd by the Charms of that mysterious Art;
In vain the Paths and Avenues we trace,
While Spirits guard and fortify the Place.

How could my stretch'd Imagination swell?
And on each regular Proportion dwell?
While thy swift Art unravels Nature's Maze,
And imitates her Works, and treads her Ways,
Nature with wonder sees herself out-done,
And claims thy fair Creation for her own;
Thy Figures in such lively Strokes excel,
They give those Passions which They seem to feel.
Each various Feature some strong Impulse bears,
Wraps us in Joy, or melts us all to Tears.

Each Piece with such transcendent Art is wrought,
That we could almost say thy Pictures thought;
When we behold thee conquer in the Strife,
And strike the kindling Figures into Life,
Which does from thy creating Pencil pass,
Warm the dull Matter, and inspire the Mass;
As fam'd Prometheus' Wand convey'd the Ray
Of Heav'nly Fire to animate his Clay.

How the just Strokes in Harmony unite?
How Shades and Darkness recommend the Light?
No Lineaments unequally surprize;
The Beauties regularly fall and rise.
Lost in each other we in vain pursue
The fleeting Lines that cheat our wearied View.
Nor know we how their subtle Courses run,
Nor where this ended, nor where that begun.

Nor where the Shades their utmost Bounds display,
Or the Light fades insensibly away;
But all harmoniously confus'd we see,
While all the sweet Varieties agree.

Thus when the Organ's solemn Airs aspire,
The blended Music wings our Thoughts with fire;
Here warbling Notes in whisp'ring Breezes sigh,
But in their birth the tender Accents die.
While thence the bolder Notes exulting come,
Swell as they fly, and bound along the Dome.
With transport fir'd, each lost in each we hear,
And all the Soul is center'd in the Ear.

See first the Senate of the Gods above,
Frequent and Full amid the Courts of Jove:
Behold the radiant Consistory shine,
With Features, Airs, and Lineaments divine.

Hermes dispatch'd from the bright Council flies,
And cleaves with all his wings the liquid Skies.
In many a Whirl, and rapid Circle driv'n
So swift, he seems at once in Earth and Heav'n.
Oh! with what Energy! what noble Force
Of strongest Colours you describe his Course?
Till the swift God the Phrygian Shepherd found
Compos'd for sleep, and stretch'd along the ground.
He brings the blooming Gold, the fatal Prize,
The bright Reward of Cytherea's Eyes.
The conscious Earth the awful Signal takes,
Without a Wind the quiv'ring Forest shakes;
Tall Ida bows; th'unwieldy Mountains nod;
And all confess the Presence of the God.

Like shooting Meteors, gliding from above,
See the proud Consort of the Thund'ring Jove,
War's glorious Goddess, and the Queen of Love;

Arm'd in their naked Charms, the Phrygian Boy
Regards those Charms with mingled Fear and Joy.
Here Juno stands with an Imperial Mien,
At once confest a Goddess a Queen.
Her Cheeks a scornful Indignation warms,
Blots out her Smiles, and checks her softer Charms.
But Venus shines in milder Beauties there,
And every Grace adorns the blooming Fair.
As conscious of her Charms, she seems to rise,
Claims, and already grasps in hope the Prize;
Beauteous, as when immortal Phidias strove
From Parian Rocks to carve the Queen of Love:
Each Grace obey'd the Summons of his Art,
And a new Beauty sprung from every Part.
In all the Terrors of her Beauty bright,
Fair Pallas awes and charms the Trojan's sight,
And gives successive Rev'rence and Delight.

Nor Thrones, nor Victories his Soul can move;
Crowns, Arms, and Triumphs, what are you to Love?
Too soon resign'd to Venus, they behold
The glitt'ring Ball of vegetable Gold.
While Jove's proud Consort thrown from her Desires,
Inflam'd with Rage maliciously retires;
Already kindles her immortal Hate,
Already labours with the Trojan Fate.
While a new Transport flush'd the blooming Boy,
Helen he seems already to enjoy,
And feeds the Flame that must consume his Troy.

Another Scene our wond'ring Sight recalls;
The fair Adult'ress leaves her native Walls:
Her Cheeks are stain'd with mingled Shame and Joy;
Lull'd on the Bosom of the Phrygian Boy.

To the loud Deeps he bears his charming Spouse,
Freed from her Lord, and from her former Vows.
On their soft Wings the whisp'ring Zephyrs play,
The Breezes skim along the dimpled Sea:
The wanton Loves direct the gentle Gales,
Sport in the Shrowds, and flutter in the Sails.
While her Twin-Brothers with a gracious Ray
Point out her Course along the watry Way.

Th'exalted Strokes so delicately shine,
All so conspire to push the bold Design;
That in each sprightly Feature we may find
The great Ideas of the Master's Mind,
As the strong Colours faithfully unite,
Mellow to Shade, and ripen into Light.
Let others form with care the ruddy Mass,
And torture into Life the running Brass,

With potent Art the breathing Statue mould,
Shape and inspire the animated Gold.
Let others Sense to Parian Marbles give,
Bid the Rocks leap to Form, and learn to live.
Still be it thine, O Thornhill, to unite
The pleasing Discord of the Shade and Light;
To vanquish Nature in the gen'rous Strife,
And touch the glowing Features into Life.

But, Thornhill, would thy noble Soul impart
One lasting Instance of thy Godlike Art
To future Times; and in thy Fame engage
The Praise of This and every distant Age;
To stretch that Art as far as it can go,
Draw the Triumphant Chief, and vanquish'd Foe:
In his own Dome, amid the spacious Walls,
Draw the deep Squadrons of the routed Gauls;

Their ravish'd Banners, and their Arms resign'd,
While the brave Hero thunders from behind;
Pours on their Front, or hangs upon their Rear;
Fights, leads, commands, and animates the War.
Let his strong Courser champ his golden Chain,
And proudly paw th'Imaginary Plain.
To Aghrim's bloody Wreaths let Cressi yield,
With the fair Laurels of Ramillia's Field.

Next, on the Sea the daring Hero show,
To chear his Friends, and terrify the Foe.
Lo! the great Chief to famish'd Thousands bears,
The Food of Armies, and Support of Wars.
The Britons rush'd with native Virtue fir'd,
And quell'd the Foe, or gloriously expir'd;
Plunging thro' Flames and Floods, their Valour broke
O'er the rang'd Cannon, and a Night of Smoke,

Thro' the wedg'd Legions urg'd their Noble Toil,
To spend their Thunder on the Tow'rs of Lisle;
While by his Deeds their Courage he inspires,
And wakes in every Breast the sleeping Fires.
Thus the whole Series of his Labours join,
Stretch'd from the Belgick Ocean to the Boyn.

Then glorious in retreat the Chief may read
Th'Immortal Actions of the Noble Dead;
And in recording Colours, with delight,
Review his Conquests, and enjoy the Fight;
See his own Deeds on each ennobled Plain;
While Fancy acts his Triumphs o'er again.

Thus on the Tyrian Walls Æneas read,
How stern Achilles rag'd, and Hector bled;

But half unsheath'd his Sword, and grip'd his Shield,
When He amidst the Scene himself beheld,
Thundring on Simois' Banks, or batt'ling in the Field.

Castor and Pollux.