 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
11
The CONNOISSEUR.
In that fam'd room where artists strive,True taste and genius to revive,
Where modern Guidos put in claim,
Contending for the wreath of Fame;
Where Virtû's sons, with great precision,
Their knowledge prove by wise decision;
A judge allow'd—a Connoisseur,
With buckram gait, and phiz demure,
Noting a piece, on which the Crowd
Unusual compliments bestow'd,
His glass first peeps thro' with an air,
(True Connoisseurs short-sighted are)
The painting carelessly survey'd,
And, when inform'd 'twas English made,
Thus to an elbow-friend, with look
Oracularly cynic, spoke:—
“Sure never was performance seen
“More gothic, tasteless, lifeless, mean:
“Painting!—'Tis canvass spoil'd—Oh, gad!
“'Tis daubing!—Execrable!—Sad!
“No colouring! keeping!—And such Clare-
“Obscure!—All Englise!—All Barbare!
“And how unnaturally shows
“That ill-made fly on that vile rose!
“A fly! 'tis no more like”—When quick,
Pointing toward the fly his stick,
To prove his criticism true,
Away the little Insect flew.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |