An essay on sculpture In a series of epistles to John Flaxman, Esq. R. A.: With notes. By William Hayley |
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EPISTLE THE SECOND.
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 | An essay on sculpture |  |
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EPISTLE THE SECOND.
------Dædala signa polire
Usus, et impigræ simul experientia mentis
Paulatim docuit pedetentim progredientis.
Lucretius.
Usus, et impigræ simul experientia mentis
Paulatim docuit pedetentim progredientis.
Lucretius.
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ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND EPISTLE.
Invocation to Sculpture.—Different ideas on the origin of Art.—A sketch of its progress in Asia, Egypt, and the early ages of Greece.
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Thou first and simplest of the Arts, that rose
To cheer the world, and lighten human woes!
Friend of the mourner! Guardian of the tomb!
May I, chaste Sculpture! without blame, presume,
Rude in thy laws, thy glory to relate,
To trace, through chequer'd years, thy changeful fate;
And praise thee, forming with a potent hand
Thy new dominion in my native land?
To cheer the world, and lighten human woes!
Friend of the mourner! Guardian of the tomb!
May I, chaste Sculpture! without blame, presume,
Rude in thy laws, thy glory to relate,
To trace, through chequer'd years, thy changeful fate;
And praise thee, forming with a potent hand
Thy new dominion in my native land?
While zeal thus bids the breath of incense roll
From that pure censer, a benignant soul,
And, with the fond sincerity of youth,
Would blazon merit in the tints of truth,
Enlivening Friendship shall those aids supply,
That injur'd health and troubled years deny:
Her hallow'd fire, like Inspiration's beam,
May raise the poet to his honour'd theme.
From that pure censer, a benignant soul,
26
Would blazon merit in the tints of truth,
Enlivening Friendship shall those aids supply,
That injur'd health and troubled years deny:
Her hallow'd fire, like Inspiration's beam,
May raise the poet to his honour'd theme.
As death-like clay, dear Flaxman! to fulfil
The kind behest of thy creative skill,
Lives at thy touch, and, with affection warm,
Of changeful beauty wears each varying form;
So languid thought, that, lifeless and disjoin'd,
Floats a dark chaos of the cumber'd mind,
At Friendship's bidding in new shapes may shine,
With each attractive charm of just design;
And gain from her, as an immortal dower,
The vivid grace of that inspiring power:
In lucid order teach my verse to rise,
Dear as a magic glass to Sculpture's eyes,
Where thy pleas'd goddess may with pride survey
Her ancient honours, and her future sway!
The kind behest of thy creative skill,
Lives at thy touch, and, with affection warm,
Of changeful beauty wears each varying form;
So languid thought, that, lifeless and disjoin'd,
Floats a dark chaos of the cumber'd mind,
At Friendship's bidding in new shapes may shine,
With each attractive charm of just design;
And gain from her, as an immortal dower,
The vivid grace of that inspiring power:
In lucid order teach my verse to rise,
Dear as a magic glass to Sculpture's eyes,
Where thy pleas'd goddess may with pride survey
Her ancient honours, and her future sway!
27
What eye may hope to pierce the distant gloom
Where, in their cradle shadowy as the tomb,
Breathing, scarce breathing the dark air of strife,
The infant Arts first struggled into life?
Where, in their cradle shadowy as the tomb,
Breathing, scarce breathing the dark air of strife,
The infant Arts first struggled into life?
There are who, led by Fancy's airy clue,
In Scythian wilds the birth of Sculpture view,
And image to themselves her youthful hand,
Prompted by dark Devotion's fond command,
To form, of yielding stone or ductile clay,
An early symbol of Almighty sway;
The bull's stern front, to which rude myriads kneel,
The favourite idol of benighted zeal.
In Scythian wilds the birth of Sculpture view,
And image to themselves her youthful hand,
Prompted by dark Devotion's fond command,
To form, of yielding stone or ductile clay,
An early symbol of Almighty sway;
The bull's stern front, to which rude myriads kneel,
The favourite idol of benighted zeal.
Others a softer origin assign
To the young beauties of this art benign—
To Love, inspiring the Corinthian maid
Fondly to fix her sleeping lover's shade;
And her kind sire's congenial skill they trace
The new attraction of a modell'd face.
To the young beauties of this art benign—
To Love, inspiring the Corinthian maid
Fondly to fix her sleeping lover's shade;
And her kind sire's congenial skill they trace
The new attraction of a modell'd face.
28
The king, whose power, by intellect refin'd,
Enthron'd each science in his ample mind,
Tells, in his hallow'd page, how Sculpture rose,
To soothe the anguish of parental woes;
How first a father, in affliction's storm,
Of his dead darling wrought the mimic form,
Impassion'd Nature's laudable relief,
Till impious worship grew from tender grief.
Enthron'd each science in his ample mind,
Tells, in his hallow'd page, how Sculpture rose,
To soothe the anguish of parental woes;
How first a father, in affliction's storm,
Of his dead darling wrought the mimic form,
Impassion'd Nature's laudable relief,
Till impious worship grew from tender grief.
No single region of the spacious earth
Can take exclusive pride in Sculpture's birth.
Wherever God, with bounty unconfin'd,
Gave man, his image, a creative mind,
Its lovely children, Arts mimetic, sprung,
And spoke, through different lands, in every tongue.
Can take exclusive pride in Sculpture's birth.
Wherever God, with bounty unconfin'd,
Gave man, his image, a creative mind,
Its lovely children, Arts mimetic, sprung,
And spoke, through different lands, in every tongue.
Though keen research, elate with Learning's pride,
From vain conjecture would in vain decide
How Sculpture first, in early twilight's hour,
Made the first essay of her infant power;
Though clouds of fabulous tradition hide
Her fam'd Prometheus, her primæval pride:
Still can the eyes of Fancy and of Truth
Behold her shining in attractive youth,
By Love, by Grief, by Piety caress'd,
Alternate nursling of each hallow'd breast;
Rear'd, by their care, to work as each inspires,
And fondly ministring to their desires.
From vain conjecture would in vain decide
How Sculpture first, in early twilight's hour,
Made the first essay of her infant power;
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Her fam'd Prometheus, her primæval pride:
Still can the eyes of Fancy and of Truth
Behold her shining in attractive youth,
By Love, by Grief, by Piety caress'd,
Alternate nursling of each hallow'd breast;
Rear'd, by their care, to work as each inspires,
And fondly ministring to their desires.
Where first imperial Pride, with wealth her dower,
Spoke in a voice of vivifying power,
And, charm'd in Asia with her new domain,
Summon'd the Arts as vassals of her train,
Sculpture, perchance, ennobled by her sway,
Gave her first wonders to the eye of day.
If, credulously fond, the Muse may speak,
Nor doubt the bold description of a Greek,
Her favourite Art's primæval skill was seen
To form the semblance of that Syrian queen,
Whose daring hand the dart of triumph hurl'd,
Who rul'd, in Babylon, the eastern world;
And, pleas'd the bounds of transient life to pass,
Aim'd at eternal sway in animated brass.
Spoke in a voice of vivifying power,
And, charm'd in Asia with her new domain,
Summon'd the Arts as vassals of her train,
Sculpture, perchance, ennobled by her sway,
Gave her first wonders to the eye of day.
If, credulously fond, the Muse may speak,
Nor doubt the bold description of a Greek,
Her favourite Art's primæval skill was seen
To form the semblance of that Syrian queen,
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Who rul'd, in Babylon, the eastern world;
And, pleas'd the bounds of transient life to pass,
Aim'd at eternal sway in animated brass.
Alas! how vain, in Asia's crumbling soil,
Prov'd the proud efforts of imperial Toil!
Where are thy wonders, Babylon? What eye
May now a vestige of thy art descry?
The cautious students in historic lore
Question the marvels they in vain explore;
Thy boasted sights a splendid fable deem,
And hold Semiramis herself a dream.
Prov'd the proud efforts of imperial Toil!
Where are thy wonders, Babylon? What eye
May now a vestige of thy art descry?
The cautious students in historic lore
Question the marvels they in vain explore;
Thy boasted sights a splendid fable deem,
And hold Semiramis herself a dream.
But haste, thou lovely goddess of my lays,
Whose varying powers command my willing praise!
Lead me from ruins, where I hardly meet
Uncertain traces of thy long-past feet,
To scenes of solid, though of gloomy truth,
The dark asylum of thy busy youth!
Whose varying powers command my willing praise!
Lead me from ruins, where I hardly meet
Uncertain traces of thy long-past feet,
To scenes of solid, though of gloomy truth,
The dark asylum of thy busy youth!
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Hail, Ægypt! hail, laborious, patient land!
Sublime in purpose, in performance grand!
Thy steady spirit to young Sculpture taught
To scape destruction in the works she wrought;
And blind Oblivion's torrent, swell'd by storms,
Has fail'd to bury thy colossal forms.
If taste fastidious may with scorn deride
Ægyptian tributes to despotic pride;
If Wonder stand in joyless trance aghast
At regal blocks, elaborately vast—
Protentous copies of a mortal frame,
Though firm, uncouth; and though enormous, tame—
If Fancy shrink from Superstition's shapes,
Dog-headed gods and consecrated apes,
From dark conceits to Learning's self unknown,
And the mute riddle on the mangled stone;—
Yet highly, Ægypt, of thy worth I deem,
And view thy patient efforts with esteem.
Is it not wonderful, and worthy praise,
That men, untouch'd by Inspiration's rays,
Strangers to Freedom, gaiety, and grace,
Could build renown upon a lasting base;
And all the ravage of destruction foil
By the calm powers of persevering toil?
Yes, Ægypt, here let thy just praise be read,
Thy tender rev'rence for the virtuous dead;
And thy fond care, by Sculpture's noblest aim,
To give beneficence a deathless name!
Time on that care bestows the wish'd effect,
And guards thy massive monarchs with respect.
Sublime in purpose, in performance grand!
Thy steady spirit to young Sculpture taught
To scape destruction in the works she wrought;
And blind Oblivion's torrent, swell'd by storms,
Has fail'd to bury thy colossal forms.
If taste fastidious may with scorn deride
Ægyptian tributes to despotic pride;
If Wonder stand in joyless trance aghast
At regal blocks, elaborately vast—
Protentous copies of a mortal frame,
Though firm, uncouth; and though enormous, tame—
If Fancy shrink from Superstition's shapes,
Dog-headed gods and consecrated apes,
From dark conceits to Learning's self unknown,
And the mute riddle on the mangled stone;—
Yet highly, Ægypt, of thy worth I deem,
And view thy patient efforts with esteem.
Is it not wonderful, and worthy praise,
That men, untouch'd by Inspiration's rays,
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Could build renown upon a lasting base;
And all the ravage of destruction foil
By the calm powers of persevering toil?
Yes, Ægypt, here let thy just praise be read,
Thy tender rev'rence for the virtuous dead;
And thy fond care, by Sculpture's noblest aim,
To give beneficence a deathless name!
Time on that care bestows the wish'd effect,
And guards thy massive monarchs with respect.
Let not nice Taste, of purer fancy vain,
This praise of old and graceless art arraign:
Should a magician usher to our view
An ancient wrinkled dame of dingy hue,
Big-bon'd and stiff, and muttering mangled verse,
Then should he say, with truth, “See Helen's nurse!”
The swarthy beldam friendly hands would shake,
And all would bless her for her nursling's sake.
Such Memphian art, to attic minds endear'd;
For Greece, their Helen! was by Ægypt rear'd.
This praise of old and graceless art arraign:
Should a magician usher to our view
An ancient wrinkled dame of dingy hue,
Big-bon'd and stiff, and muttering mangled verse,
Then should he say, with truth, “See Helen's nurse!”
The swarthy beldam friendly hands would shake,
And all would bless her for her nursling's sake.
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For Greece, their Helen! was by Ægypt rear'd.
Ye first and fairest of ideal forms,
Whom beauty decorates, and passion warms!
Ye Graces, who beheld, with just delight,
All Greece one temple, by your presence bright!
Conduct a modern bard, in fancy's hour,
To view that temple; conscious of your power,
Conscious your favour full success ensures;
The paths of knowledge, truth, and fame are yours.
Your aid a vital charm to toil imparts,
The deathless soul of transmigrating arts.
Offspring of Freedom and of Feeling! you
Outlive your parents, and their life renew:
Immortal in their works, your endless sway
Can bring departed talents into day;
Convince the world your influence sublime
Fears no fictitious bars of soil or clime;
Exalt my country with your kindest smile,
And raise an Athens in this northern isle!
Whom beauty decorates, and passion warms!
Ye Graces, who beheld, with just delight,
All Greece one temple, by your presence bright!
Conduct a modern bard, in fancy's hour,
To view that temple; conscious of your power,
Conscious your favour full success ensures;
The paths of knowledge, truth, and fame are yours.
Your aid a vital charm to toil imparts,
The deathless soul of transmigrating arts.
Offspring of Freedom and of Feeling! you
Outlive your parents, and their life renew:
Immortal in their works, your endless sway
Can bring departed talents into day;
Convince the world your influence sublime
Fears no fictitious bars of soil or clime;
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And raise an Athens in this northern isle!
My daring verse avows the patriot aim
To quicken Britain's love for boundless fame;
To raise her pitch of emulation high,
With Grecian Sculpture's perfect sons to vie.
To quicken Britain's love for boundless fame;
To raise her pitch of emulation high,
With Grecian Sculpture's perfect sons to vie.
When foreign pride would British minds enchain,
Perish the doubt, preposterously vain,
That mental tyrants arrogantly start
To limit England in the sphere of art!
Has she not borne, to men and angels dear,
A poet who, beyond his Greek compeer,
In Fancy's field the disk of glory hurl'd—
The hallow'd Homer of the Christian world?
Associate Arts alternate lustre lend;
Each, in her hour, appears a sister's friend.
Say why in sculpture Greece has reign'd supreme?
Nature with marble gave her rocks to teem;
And fostering Freedom bade her chissel trace
Unfetter'd forms of dignity and grace;
Propitious both to Art: but higher still
Flows the bright fountain of her plastic skill.
Homer first vivifi'd the public mind,
Arm'd it with strength, with elegance refin'd;
From him, that mind with images replete,
As Sculpture potent, and as Painting sweet,
Grew by degrees, in various branches bright;
Congenial faculties pursu'd his flight;
And Phidias rose, while Art and Nature smil'd,
The mighty poet's intellectual child
Whom Sculpture boasted in her proudest hour,
By Heaven invested with Homeric power.
Perish the doubt, preposterously vain,
That mental tyrants arrogantly start
To limit England in the sphere of art!
Has she not borne, to men and angels dear,
A poet who, beyond his Greek compeer,
In Fancy's field the disk of glory hurl'd—
The hallow'd Homer of the Christian world?
Associate Arts alternate lustre lend;
Each, in her hour, appears a sister's friend.
Say why in sculpture Greece has reign'd supreme?
Nature with marble gave her rocks to teem;
35
Unfetter'd forms of dignity and grace;
Propitious both to Art: but higher still
Flows the bright fountain of her plastic skill.
Homer first vivifi'd the public mind,
Arm'd it with strength, with elegance refin'd;
From him, that mind with images replete,
As Sculpture potent, and as Painting sweet,
Grew by degrees, in various branches bright;
Congenial faculties pursu'd his flight;
And Phidias rose, while Art and Nature smil'd,
The mighty poet's intellectual child
Whom Sculpture boasted in her proudest hour,
By Heaven invested with Homeric power.
When, truer to itself, the British mind,
More keen for honours of the purest kind,
To Milton's genius such regard shall pay
As Greece for Homer gloried to display,
Like Phidias, then, her sculptors shall aspire
To quicken marble with Miltonic fire;
And attic deities shall yield the palm
To lovelier forms, seraphically calm.
More keen for honours of the purest kind,
To Milton's genius such regard shall pay
As Greece for Homer gloried to display,
Like Phidias, then, her sculptors shall aspire
To quicken marble with Miltonic fire;
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To lovelier forms, seraphically calm.
Fine Art's important growth in every clime
Requires the slow progressive aid of Time.
In Greece, where Sculpture reach'd such heights at last,
That Nature, smiling, own'd herself supass'd,
Observe how ages her long childhood nurs'd,
And how her ripen'd charms excell'd the first!
Requires the slow progressive aid of Time.
In Greece, where Sculpture reach'd such heights at last,
That Nature, smiling, own'd herself supass'd,
Observe how ages her long childhood nurs'd,
And how her ripen'd charms excell'd the first!
Behold her Dædalus, whom fables praise,
The boast and wonder of her early days!
He, daring artist, in a period dark,
In death-like forms infus'd a living spark;
He loosen'd from the side the lifeless arm,
Gave to the open'd eyes a speaking charm,
And such an air of action to the whole
That his rude statue seem'd to have a soul.
The boast and wonder of her early days!
He, daring artist, in a period dark,
In death-like forms infus'd a living spark;
He loosen'd from the side the lifeless arm,
Gave to the open'd eyes a speaking charm,
And such an air of action to the whole
That his rude statue seem'd to have a soul.
Thou great artificer of deathless fame!
Thy varied skill has prov'd the sport of Fame,
Who shews, half shrouded in the veil of Time,
Thy real talents, thy imputed crime;
A crime as false, in Reason's friendly sight,
As through the buoyant air thy fabled flight.
Theseus and Hercules with thee combin'd
By different toils to meliorate mankind:
They labour'd to secure, by glorious strife,
And thou, by glorious arts, to sweeten life.
Though dim traditions all thy merit show,
Too well one feature of thy fate we know:
Genius and misery, (so oft, on earth,
Severely blended in the lot of worth,)—
These both were thine, and both in rare extremes,
Yet both were recompens'd by glory's beams:
Thy native Athens in thy praise was loud,
And grateful Ægypt to thy image bow'd.
Ruin has sunk within her drear domain
Thy attic figures, thy Ægyptian fane;
Glory still grants, thy fav'rite name to grace,
One monument that Time can ne'er deface,
Where Pathos, while her lips thy pangs rehearse,
Shews thy parental heart enshrin'd in Virgil's verse.
Thy varied skill has prov'd the sport of Fame,
Who shews, half shrouded in the veil of Time,
Thy real talents, thy imputed crime;
37
As through the buoyant air thy fabled flight.
Theseus and Hercules with thee combin'd
By different toils to meliorate mankind:
They labour'd to secure, by glorious strife,
And thou, by glorious arts, to sweeten life.
Though dim traditions all thy merit show,
Too well one feature of thy fate we know:
Genius and misery, (so oft, on earth,
Severely blended in the lot of worth,)—
These both were thine, and both in rare extremes,
Yet both were recompens'd by glory's beams:
Thy native Athens in thy praise was loud,
And grateful Ægypt to thy image bow'd.
Ruin has sunk within her drear domain
Thy attic figures, thy Ægyptian fane;
Glory still grants, thy fav'rite name to grace,
One monument that Time can ne'er deface,
Where Pathos, while her lips thy pangs rehearse,
Shews thy parental heart enshrin'd in Virgil's verse.
38
Unhappy genius of a brutal age!
Admir'd and spurn'd by ignorance and rage!
Though styl'd a murd'rer, who, with envy blind,
Kill'd the keen scholar to his charge consign'd;
Though doom'd to sorrow's most oppressive weight,
To mourn a darling son's disastrous fate;
Just Heaven allow'd thy tortur'd mind to rest
On one disciple, in thy guidance blest—
Thy kind Endæus joy'd thy lot to share,
Thy friend in exile, and in art thy heir!
A witness of his skill Minerva stood—
Colossal deity in sculptur'd wood;
And from his touch less-yielding ivory caught
Of life the semblance, and the air of thought.
The different uses of an art divine
From thee he learnt; for Art's wide field was thine:
Rich, though yet rude; where her prophetic eyes
Saw distant wonders from thy genius rise,
Whose native strength, like England's early sage,
Bursting the barriers of a barbarous age,
Emerg'd, while Nature bade thy mimic strife
Make bold advances to ideal life.
Not vain, O Dædalus! thy toil, to raise
A varied column of inventive praise;
Though lost to sight each boldly-labour'd mass
Of wood, of stone, of ivory, of brass,
That from thy spirit vital semblance won;
Though Time, unfeeling, crush'd thy sculptur'd son,
Whose form, more fondly labour'd than thy own,
In radiant bronze with radiant lustre shone,
And long to strangers would thy love attest,
An idol of the land that gave thee rest—
Though these were sunk in early ruin, still,
An happier offspring of thy plastic skill,
Schools of Greek art arose, with spirit free,
And blest a bold progenitor in thee.
Ægina, like the morning's early rays,
And Corinth, bright as the meridian blaze;
Sicyon, ingenious Beauty's native earth,
And Rhodes, who gloried in Minerva's birth—
Hence Sculpture drew her nurseries of skill,
Rich as a river fed by many a rill;
While earth and Heaven exult in its advance
To shine reflected in its bright expanse!
Nor there alone did liberal Art display
The sweet enchantment of her early sway:
Even rough Sparta, though engross'd by arms,
Esteem'd the patient chissel's softer charms.
Proud of her dauntless race in battle tried,
She rear'd a sculptor with parental pride;
Pleas'd that her son Gitiades combin'd
Three kindred arts in his accomplish'd mind.
He built, he deck'd with bronze Minerva's fane,
Then sung the goddess in a hallow'd strain.
The triple homage won her kind regard,
And from oblivion sav'd the artist and the bard.
But, like the cast of Spartan manners, coarse,
And slighting softer charms for sinewy force,
E'en Grecian art, through all its studious youth,
Reach'd not the latent grace of lovely Truth.
Her chiefs, her gods, as in a mental storm,
Aw'd with a proud austerity of form;
Yet Sculpture's sons, with Nature in their view,
Increas'd in talents, and in honour grew.
Such power Dipænus gave to Parian stone,
That gods appear'd to make his cause their own;
And Terror thought they curs'd the sterile soil
Where haste insulted his unfinish'd toil.
Admir'd and spurn'd by ignorance and rage!
Though styl'd a murd'rer, who, with envy blind,
Kill'd the keen scholar to his charge consign'd;
Though doom'd to sorrow's most oppressive weight,
To mourn a darling son's disastrous fate;
Just Heaven allow'd thy tortur'd mind to rest
On one disciple, in thy guidance blest—
Thy kind Endæus joy'd thy lot to share,
Thy friend in exile, and in art thy heir!
A witness of his skill Minerva stood—
Colossal deity in sculptur'd wood;
And from his touch less-yielding ivory caught
Of life the semblance, and the air of thought.
The different uses of an art divine
From thee he learnt; for Art's wide field was thine:
Rich, though yet rude; where her prophetic eyes
Saw distant wonders from thy genius rise,
Whose native strength, like England's early sage,
Bursting the barriers of a barbarous age,
39
Make bold advances to ideal life.
Not vain, O Dædalus! thy toil, to raise
A varied column of inventive praise;
Though lost to sight each boldly-labour'd mass
Of wood, of stone, of ivory, of brass,
That from thy spirit vital semblance won;
Though Time, unfeeling, crush'd thy sculptur'd son,
Whose form, more fondly labour'd than thy own,
In radiant bronze with radiant lustre shone,
And long to strangers would thy love attest,
An idol of the land that gave thee rest—
Though these were sunk in early ruin, still,
An happier offspring of thy plastic skill,
Schools of Greek art arose, with spirit free,
And blest a bold progenitor in thee.
Ægina, like the morning's early rays,
And Corinth, bright as the meridian blaze;
40
And Rhodes, who gloried in Minerva's birth—
Hence Sculpture drew her nurseries of skill,
Rich as a river fed by many a rill;
While earth and Heaven exult in its advance
To shine reflected in its bright expanse!
Nor there alone did liberal Art display
The sweet enchantment of her early sway:
Even rough Sparta, though engross'd by arms,
Esteem'd the patient chissel's softer charms.
Proud of her dauntless race in battle tried,
She rear'd a sculptor with parental pride;
Pleas'd that her son Gitiades combin'd
Three kindred arts in his accomplish'd mind.
He built, he deck'd with bronze Minerva's fane,
Then sung the goddess in a hallow'd strain.
The triple homage won her kind regard,
And from oblivion sav'd the artist and the bard.
41
And slighting softer charms for sinewy force,
E'en Grecian art, through all its studious youth,
Reach'd not the latent grace of lovely Truth.
Her chiefs, her gods, as in a mental storm,
Aw'd with a proud austerity of form;
Yet Sculpture's sons, with Nature in their view,
Increas'd in talents, and in honour grew.
Such power Dipænus gave to Parian stone,
That gods appear'd to make his cause their own;
And Terror thought they curs'd the sterile soil
Where haste insulted his unfinish'd toil.
Thy sons, Anthermus, with a filial pride
Their dear hereditary talents plied,
And bade, the measure of her fame to fill,
Their native Chios glory in their skill:
But, in an evil hour of angry haste,
They with malignant skill their art debas'd;
Pleas'd to devote to mockery's regard
The homely visage of no trifling bard:
Hipponax, fam'd for acrimonious song,
Soon with Iambic rage aveng'd the wrong.
Deform'd of soul, Derision fann'd the strife:
But the mild patrons of enlighten'd life,
The nobler Graces, mourn'd the bickering hour,
And blam'd the mean abuse of mental power.
Their dear hereditary talents plied,
And bade, the measure of her fame to fill,
Their native Chios glory in their skill:
But, in an evil hour of angry haste,
They with malignant skill their art debas'd;
42
The homely visage of no trifling bard:
Hipponax, fam'd for acrimonious song,
Soon with Iambic rage aveng'd the wrong.
Deform'd of soul, Derision fann'd the strife:
But the mild patrons of enlighten'd life,
The nobler Graces, mourn'd the bickering hour,
And blam'd the mean abuse of mental power.
For aims more worthy of an art divine,
A purer fame, Antenor, shall be thine,
Whose skill to public reverence consign'd
The patriot idols of the Grecian mind—
The young Tyrannicides, whose dauntless soul
Disdain'd submission to usurp'd control;
Whose brave achievement, and whose blended praise,
Athens rehears'd in her convivial lays—
Athens, exulting those dear forms to see—
Whose very silence cried aloud, “Be free!”
A purer fame, Antenor, shall be thine,
Whose skill to public reverence consign'd
The patriot idols of the Grecian mind—
The young Tyrannicides, whose dauntless soul
Disdain'd submission to usurp'd control;
Whose brave achievement, and whose blended praise,
Athens rehears'd in her convivial lays—
Athens, exulting those dear forms to see—
Whose very silence cried aloud, “Be free!”
43
Instructive Sculpture! chaste and awful queen
Of Arts that dignify this earthly scene!
Thy finest skill, thy most empassion'd powers,
Form'd to outlive the pencil's fading flowers,
Are well devoted, as true honour's prize,
To Freedom's son who for his parent dies:
For she, the prime ennobler of the mind,
That, wanting her blest beam, is weak and blind—
Freedom, of Excellence the fostering friend,
Whom Virtue loves, and Sciences attend—
Freedom first made in Greece, her favourite land,
Beauty and Force the creatures of thy hand:
She taught thee with such forms to deck thy sphere
As wise Idolatry may yet revere;
Forms, in which Art refin'd on Nature's plan,
At once resembling and surpassing Man.
Of Arts that dignify this earthly scene!
Thy finest skill, thy most empassion'd powers,
Form'd to outlive the pencil's fading flowers,
Are well devoted, as true honour's prize,
To Freedom's son who for his parent dies:
For she, the prime ennobler of the mind,
That, wanting her blest beam, is weak and blind—
Freedom, of Excellence the fostering friend,
Whom Virtue loves, and Sciences attend—
Freedom first made in Greece, her favourite land,
Beauty and Force the creatures of thy hand:
She taught thee with such forms to deck thy sphere
As wise Idolatry may yet revere;
Forms, in which Art refin'd on Nature's plan,
At once resembling and surpassing Man.
'Twas in the splendor of those glorious days,
When attic valour won eternal praise—
When, happy to have clear'd her cumber'd coast
From fierce Invasion's foil'd barbaric host—
Exulting Liberty to Sculpture cried,
“Aid thou our triumphs, and our joys divide!
“Since I and Nature in this scene conspire
“To warm accomplish'd minds with happiest fire,
“That Fame may see them in her fane preside,
“And deem her attic sons her dearest pride!
“To memorize their noble forms be thine!
“Grace thou the mortal with an air divine!
“That Grecian excellence, eluding fate,
“Age after age may shine supremely great;
“That Greece herself, and every polish'd clime,
“May, through the long vicissitudes of time,
“Hail those who sav'd her from Oppression's rod,
“The patriot hero, or the guardian god!”
So Freedom spake, and at her potent call
Obedient Sculpture peopled every hall;
The generous artist fix'd, with proud delight,
The state's brave champions in the public sight;
And grateful Genius felt his powers expand,
While public virtue taught his willing hand
To honour chiefs who every danger brav'd,
And decorate the land their valour sav'd.
When attic valour won eternal praise—
When, happy to have clear'd her cumber'd coast
From fierce Invasion's foil'd barbaric host—
44
“Aid thou our triumphs, and our joys divide!
“Since I and Nature in this scene conspire
“To warm accomplish'd minds with happiest fire,
“That Fame may see them in her fane preside,
“And deem her attic sons her dearest pride!
“To memorize their noble forms be thine!
“Grace thou the mortal with an air divine!
“That Grecian excellence, eluding fate,
“Age after age may shine supremely great;
“That Greece herself, and every polish'd clime,
“May, through the long vicissitudes of time,
“Hail those who sav'd her from Oppression's rod,
“The patriot hero, or the guardian god!”
So Freedom spake, and at her potent call
Obedient Sculpture peopled every hall;
The generous artist fix'd, with proud delight,
The state's brave champions in the public sight;
And grateful Genius felt his powers expand,
While public virtue taught his willing hand
45
And decorate the land their valour sav'd.
Nor gave just Gratitude to man alone
This vital tribute of expressive stone,
But to Athenians who, in beauty's form,
Repress'd their female fear in ruin's storm;
Who, in the hour when their delightful home,
Domestic altars, and each sacred dome,
Were seen to sink in fate's barbaric blaze,
Disdain'd despair, and look'd for happier days
In Grecian arms still daring to confide
With tender fortitude and virtuous pride;
Pleas'd in Trezene's sheltering walls to wait,
Till attic force restor'd their native state.
Ye patient heroines! not vain your trust,
By love suggested, and to valour just!
Athens, the favourite theme of every tongue,
(A real Phenix,) from her ashes sprung—
Athens, endear'd to every feeling heart,
A throne of Genius, and a mine of art—
Athens was proud your conduct to review;
She to your courage rais'd memorials due,
And with your sculptur'd charms Trezene deck'd,
Who sav'd her fugitives with fond respect.
This vital tribute of expressive stone,
But to Athenians who, in beauty's form,
Repress'd their female fear in ruin's storm;
Who, in the hour when their delightful home,
Domestic altars, and each sacred dome,
Were seen to sink in fate's barbaric blaze,
Disdain'd despair, and look'd for happier days
In Grecian arms still daring to confide
With tender fortitude and virtuous pride;
Pleas'd in Trezene's sheltering walls to wait,
Till attic force restor'd their native state.
Ye patient heroines! not vain your trust,
By love suggested, and to valour just!
Athens, the favourite theme of every tongue,
(A real Phenix,) from her ashes sprung—
Athens, endear'd to every feeling heart,
A throne of Genius, and a mine of art—
46
She to your courage rais'd memorials due,
And with your sculptur'd charms Trezene deck'd,
Who sav'd her fugitives with fond respect.
Ye heroines of hope, whose force of mind
Induc'd relenting Fortune to be kind!
Teach me to copy what I justly praise!
Teach me, like you, in dark affliction's days—
Now while the lyre, by sorrow's stern command,
Sinks in forc'd silence from my troubled hand—
Teach me to wait, in Quiet's friendly bower,
The future sunshine of a fairer hour.
Induc'd relenting Fortune to be kind!
Teach me to copy what I justly praise!
Teach me, like you, in dark affliction's days—
Now while the lyre, by sorrow's stern command,
Sinks in forc'd silence from my troubled hand—
Teach me to wait, in Quiet's friendly bower,
The future sunshine of a fairer hour.
THE END OF THE SECOND EPISTLE.
| An essay on sculpture | |