The Preface
As the subject of this Ode is, from the copiousness of it, almost an inexhaustible one (were I to take notice of all the minuter branches of this art, in which the several masters have distinguish’d themselves, such as the painting of fruit, flowers, still-life, game, buildings, ships, &c.) I have confin’d myself chiefly to the three greater species of it: namely, History (under which Battle-painting may justly be included) Landskip and Portraiture——and as, in a composition of this length, I imagin’d that the perpetual recurrence of the same measure in such a multiplicity of stanzas would have been rather languid and fatiguing, I have therefore indulg’d myself in many different kinds of metre; but, at the same time, have blended them as harmoniously as I could contrive; by which indulgence I have not only consulted my own ease, but hope I have likewise, in some degree, consulted the pleasure of the Reader, by entertaining his ear, at least, with a little variety of wild music, even if the composition should have no other sort of merit to recommend it.
I
Sweet mimick art! Which to our ravish’d eyes,
From a few blended colours, and the aid
Of attemper’d light and shade,
Bid’st a new creation rise—
Oh! to this song of tributary praise,
Which Poetry thy sister art
Now with friendly homage pays,
Could I contrive thy beauties to impart!
With my easy flowing line
10 To unite correctness of design,
And make a Titian’s colouring conspire
With Raphael’s grace, and Buanoroti’s fire—
II
And this moment I perceive
(Or does some illusion bless me,
Some sweet madness now possess me?)
My tumultuous bosom heave,
Like the rapt Sibyll’s when she feels the load,
The painful influence of th’ in-rushing God—
III
Yes—once again with joy I find
20 (Nor think my friend th’ assertion bold)
This languid age-enfeebled mind,
As in life’s prime, it’s powers unfold—
Again th’ ideal scenes arise,
The visions stream before my eyes,
Resistless on the rous’d imagination pour,
And paint themselves as lively as before——
IV
But be this mental picture grac’d
With all th’ adornings fancy can bestow,
30 How is it’s beauty now effac’d,
How fast all it’s splendor declines,
Out-dazzled by those brighter lines
Which on yonder canvas glow——
V
Where—by th’ Historick pencil’s aid
Whose ages are at once display’d—
Some great event of Rome or Greece
Fills perhaps each high wrought piece—
There—some triumphal pomp proceeds—
There—th’ impetuous battle bleeds—
Mark! while they engage
40 What ardor what rage,
How shields are clash’d with shields—
And with what force up-rais’d in air,
Each warrior brawny arm stript bare,
Darts th’ keen spear, or glittering faulchion wields,
And while it aims the stroke, or while repels,
How justly each inflated muscle swells——
VI
With the same noble warmth imprest,
As with his Lord the gallant beast
Was eager to acquire a name,
50 And combated like him for fame,
See the generous steed
Fierce as Circe’s high breed
Which she stole from her bright-flaming fire,
While he springs on the foe,
Like the shaft from the bow,
Scarce imprint the trod ground;
But curvet and bound
As if drawn by a pencil of fire——
VII
But what endless length of verse
60 Can suffice me to rehearse
Th’ enliven’d action of the whole?
Squadrons this way, that way bending,
The depicted forms contending
As instinct with real foul——
VIII
Nay—minutely to describe
The varied helm, peculiar shield,
The different aspect of each tribe
Which animates th’ embattled field,
Would ask the compass of an age,
70 To mark the whole—must drawl along
The tedious circumstantial song,
And haply languish through the thousandth page—
IX
But rapidly by Painting’s aid
Is this intelligence convey’d;
E’en in a single moment’s space
We see th’ extensive plan unfold,
Omitted not one trifling grace,
In full the complex tale is told;
The grand exploits of half an Iliad rise,
80
And flash at once on our astonish’d eyes——
X
Nor serves this sweet instructive art
T’ inform the intellect alone,
But often melts th’ obdurate heart
And wakes it’s pænitential groan—
For when in some great Master’s draught,
With genius as with judgement fraught,
Nail’d haply to th’ accursed tree,
On his tenter’d wounds suspended,
Every nerve with torture rended,
90 Th’ agonizing God we see—
Supported by her weeping train
While the dolorous mother stands
With anguish’d features, writhen hands,
Expressing e’en superior pain;
Who but must mingle in this scene of woe,
What breast can cease to heave, what eye forbear to flow?
XI
But sorrow now o’erpow’rd by fear,
Soon is check’d the starting tear,
While in yonder piece I view,
100 Which Vanderveld’s bold pencil drew
Through all it’s gloom’d extent the ocean
Work’d into wild impetuous motion,
And with more dread t’ impress the soul
Grimly frowns the lurid sky,
And the condensing vapours roll,
And the fork’d light’nings fly—
With shatter’d sails and low-bent mast
Drives before the whirling blast
The fondering vessel—Hark! I hear
110 (Or does the eye deceive the ear?)
The thunder’s voice, the groaning air,
The billows loud roar
While they break on the shore,
The cries of the wreck’d, and their shrieks of despair.
XII
With pleasure now I turn my sight
From horror and death to those scenes of delight,
Where Claudio’s pencil has essay’d
With every heighten’d touch to trace
The wide-stretch’d Landskip’s varied face,
120 And all it’s sweet delusive skill display’d—
XIII
How the genial colours warm us?
How the gay deceptions charm us?
The objects here advancing nigh
As with brighter tints they bloom—
There receding from the eye
As suffus’d with deeper gloom;
And, while here to bound the scene,
Their tops half-blended with the skies,
The misty mountains intervene,
130 Or rocks in dim confusion rise;
There the wild ocean terminates the view;
It’s green waves mingling with th’ æthereal blue—
XIV
And, lo! what numerous beauties grace
Th’ enchanted intermediate space!
Rivers winding through the vales,
Here, full in view; there, faintly shewn,
Hillocks, inter-mix’d with dales,
Rural cotts at distance thrown—
There, some foaming cataract pours
140 From the steep cliff it’s watery stores;
Here, spreads it’s gloom some awful grove,
Through whose thick branches interwove,
While the sun darts his slanting beams,
Delightful to the eye the yellowish lustre streams—
XV
Above the strong illumin’d skies,
The clouds in shining volumes, roll’d
Their fleecy skirts bedeckt with gold,
Half-dazzle the spectator’s eyes—
And does the real solar light
150 Flash at present on the sight?
Or, does the pencil’d radiance only flow,
And flowing with such fervour beat
That e’en with all the dog-days heat
The sultry painting now appears to glow?
XVI
Beneath some oak’s projecting shade,
Where the shot rays scarce passage find,
See many a rustick youth and maid
In languid attitudes reclin’d——
Mark! with features all relenting,
160 And with down-cast eyes consenting,
How each nymph listens to the amorous tale;
Her half-bar’d bosom, panting with desire,
Expos’d, as if to catch the cooling gale;
But more, perhaps, to fan the lover’s fire.
XVII
Ye dear deceptions! how ye move
The breast to long forgotten love?
Luxurious scenes! how ye excite
The traces of distinct delight!
E’en now around this poor half-frozen heart
170 Agnizing it’s accustom’d smart,
Like some mild lambent flame the passion plays;
And, vanquish’d by ideal charms,
I sink in the imagin’d arms
Of some sweet Phillis of my youthful days.
XVIII
But, lo! the Portrait of yon hoary sage
From whose grave lore I learnt in youth
Many a rigid moral truth,
Frowns me again to cold unfeeling age—
How are the soft emotions checkt
180 While tow’rd me he seems to direct,
As if alive, his conscious eye;
At whose austere reproving glance,
I wake reluctant from my trance,
And feel with pain each pleasing passion die!—
XIX
Venus yokes her purple doves,
In an instant dispossest,
All the little sportive loves
Hurry—hurry from my breast—
And the whole charming vision flits away
190 Like the night’s golden dream at break of envious day—
XX
Poor human life! how short the date
Assign’d thee by relentless Fate!——
Poor transient Beauty! tender flower!
Still shorter thy allotted hour!——
Then stretch the canvass—quick, my Friend,
Thy pencil seize—thy work attend—
E’en exempt from deforming diseases,
How it fades by the torches of Time;
Every moment that flows
200 Steals the gloss from the rose;
Then catch the bright hue while it pleases,
And fix the fair face in it’s prime.
XXI
Nay— thus, great Artist, has thy hand
To half the high-born beauty of the land
A permanence ensur’d,
And from th’ attacks of wrinkling age,
And from the pustule’s venom’d rage
Th’ untarnish’d form secur’d—
XXII
It’s dear resemblance has at least
210 Been in thy faithful lines exprest;
In thy firm colours still persists to bloom;
Nor does it cease the heart t’ alarm,
Nor does it cease the eye to charm,
E’en when the real Fair is mouldering in her tomb—
XXIII
And eminent in beauty as in birth,
When the bright Lenox shall as well
In the same gloomy mansion dwell
And mingle with her kindred regal earth,
Still in thy tints shall she survive,
220 With sweet attraction still engage,
Still feed the flame as when alive,
And (e’en improv’d by mellowing age
Each charm of person and of face)
Still sacrifice to every grace—
XXIV
For we not see the outward form alone
In thy judicious strokes defin’d,
But in them too—distinctly shewn—
The strong-mark’d features of the mind—
Each charmer’s attitude and air
230 The internal character declare,
With ease the varied temper we descry,
The full-soul beaming from th’ expressive eye—
XXV
Here—in the sweetly pensive mein
Is the soft gentle Nature seen,
And chaste reserve, and modest fear,
And artless innocence appear—
There—the little fly coquet
Aiming her insidious glances:
For trapping hearts each feature set,
240 From the canvass makes advances,
Nay—if we credit the delusive face,
She seems just springing to our fond embrace—
XXVI
And if such meaning can be thrown
Into the single form alone—
With what fresh rapture should we gaze,
How would thy kindling genius blaze,
To what superior heights aspire,
If working on some grand design,
Where various characters combine
250 To call forth all it’s force, and rouse thy native fire?—
XXVII
And that thy hand can equally excel
E’en in this noble part,
This shining branch of thy expressive art,
To it’s own happy labour we appeal,
To that rich piece whose pleasing fiction
And splendid tints with full conviction
Strike the spectator, while he views
Thalia and the tragick muse,
Each eager on her side t’ engage
260 Th’ unrivall’d Roscius of the British stage—
XXVIII
Stern and erect the buskin’d dame
In high dramatick wrath appears,
With energy supports her claim
And seems to thunder in his ears;
While the inveigling comick Fair,
With aspect sly and artful air
To draw her favourite to her arms
Strains every nerve; but as she strives,
With the sweet attitude contrives
270 T’ impart the stronger influence to her charms—
XXIX
Betwixt them with distracted mein
The object of their strife is seen;
His eyes with wild confusion roll,
Mixt passions, with alternate sway,
In his ambiguous features play,
And speak as yet the undetermined soul;
But that half-assenting leer,
Obliquely on the little wheedler thrown,
Portends, though checkt with aukward fear,
280 That soon the apostate will be all her own—
XXX
Spare, Oh! Time, these colours; spare ’em,
Or with thy tend’rest touch impair ’em:
At least, for some few centuries space,
Shine they with unlessen’d grace!
They shall—yet, Oh! these noble works at last
Must, by the gathering mould o’ercast,
Or rotted by the damps, decay,
Or by the air’s corrosive power,
Or e’en the slowly-fretting hour,
290 Must every trace of beauty melt away.
XXXI
When er’st Apelle’s friend enquir’d,
Why touch’d so oft in every part
With repeated strokes of art,
The picture which already they admir’d,
The Artist, with becoming pride,
“I’m Painting for Eternity,” replied.
XXXII
But vain, great Genius! was thy boast;
Long since th’ eternal piece is lost——
Thy Venus now no more expresses,
300 Rising from her watery bed,
The moisture from her twisted tresses
O’er her dazzling bosom spread—
No more thy colours bloom, effac’d by age,
But in the poet’s or th’ historian’s page.
XXXIII
Oh then—reject not with disdain,
Great Artist, this unpolish’d strain——
Though happy while it may intend
Thy shining merits to display,
It may serve only in the end
310 My own weak genius to betray,
May shew with what presumption I aspire
To build the rhyme
And tow’er sublime
With Pindar’s vanity without his fire.
XXXIV
Yet——confide——(for every trifler’s breast)
And by this influence I presage
In the long course of rolling years,
When all thy labour disappears,
Yet shall this verse descend from age to age,
320 And, breaking from oblivion’s shade,
Go on, to flourish while thy paintings fade.
XXXV
If so—at present though thy hand
May glory of itself command,
Nor can the muse’s laurels now,
Though wove with nicer skill than mine,
Help to adorn it, while they twine
Round thy already loaden brow—
Yes—if my presage is not vain—
330 Yes—if this verse hereafter should remain—
(Though now indeed as needless quite
As at noon’s blaze the taper’s light)
It may then serve to aggrandize thy name,
And add some splendor to thy future fame.
Finis
Publications of the Augustan Reprint Society
First Year (1946–47)
Numbers 1-6 out of print.
Titles:
1. Richard Blackmore’s Essay upon Wit (1716), and Addison’s Freeholder No. 45 (1716).
2. Anon., Essay on Wit (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and Joseph Warton’s Adventurer Nos. 127 and 133.
3. Anon., Letter to A. H. Esq.; concerning the Stage (1698), and Richard Willis’ Occasional Paper No. IX (1698).
4. Samuel Cobb’s Of Poetry and Discourse on Criticism (1707).
5. Samuel Wesley’s Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry (1700) and Essay on Heroic Poetry (1693).
6. Anon., Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage (1704) and anon., Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage (1704).
Second Year (1947-1948)
7. John Gay’s The Present State of Wit (1711); and a section on Wit from The English Theophrastus (1702).
8. Rapin’s De Carmine Pastorali, translated by Creech (1684).
9. T. Hanmer’s (?) Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet (1736).
10. Corbyn Morris’ Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, etc. (1744).
11. Thomas Purney’s Discourse on the Pastoral (1717).
12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood Krutch.
Third Year (1948-1949)
13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), The Theatre (1720).
14. Edward Moore’s The Gamester(1753).
15. John Oldmixon’s Reflections on Dr. Swift’s Letter to Harley (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring’s The British Academy (1712).
16. Nevil Payne’s Fatal Jealousy (1673).
17. Nicholas Rowe’s Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespeare (1709).
18. “Of Genius,” in The Occasional Paper, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719); and Aaron Hill’s Preface to The Creation (1720).
Fourth Year (1949-1950)
19. Susanna Centlivre’s The Busie Body (1709).
20. Lewis Theobold’s Preface to The Works of Shakespeare (1734).
21. Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela (1754).
22. Samuel Johnson’s The Vanity of Human Wishes (1749) and Two Rambler papers (1750).
23. John Dryden’s His Majesties Declaration Defended (1681).
24. Pierre Nicole’s An Essay on True and Apparent Beauty in Which from Settled Principles is Rendered the Grounds for Choosing and Rejecting Epigrams, translated by J. V. Cunningham.
Fifth Year (1950-1951)
25. Thomas Baker’s The Fine Lady’s Airs (1709).
26. Charles Macklin’s The Man of the World (1792).
27. Frances Reynolds’ An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Taste, and of the Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty, etc. (1785).
28. John Evelyn’s An Apologie for the Royal Party (1659); and A Panegyric to Charles the Second (1661).
29. Daniel Defoe’s A Vindication of the Press (1718).
30. Essays on Taste from John Gilbert Cooper’s Letters Concerning Taste, 3rd edition (1757), & John Armstrong’s Miscellanies (1770).
Sixth Year (1951-1952)
31. Thomas Gray’s An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard (1751); and The Eton College Manuscript.
32. Prefaces to Fiction; Georges de Scudéry’s Preface to Ibrahim (1674), etc.
33. Henry Gally’s A Critical Essay on Characteristic-Writings (1725).
34. Thomas Tyers’ A Biographical Sketch of Dr. Samuel Johnson (1785).
35. James Boswell, Andrew Erskine, and George Dempster. Critical Strictures on the New Tragedy of Elvira, Written by Mr. David Malloch (1763).
36. Joseph Harris’s The City Bride (1696).
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California
The Augustan Reprint Society
General Editors
| H. Richard Archer William Andrews Clark Memorial Library | E. N. Hooker University of California, Los Angeles |
| R. C. Boys University of Michigan | John Loftis University of California, Los Angeles |
The Society exists to make available inexpensive reprints (usually facsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century works. The editorial policy of the Society continues unchanged. As in the past, the editors welcome suggestions concerning publications. All income of the Society is devoted to defraying cost of publication and mailing.
All correspondence concerning subscriptions in the United States and Canada should be addressed to the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, 2205 West Adams Boulevard, Los Angeles 18, California. Correspondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to any of the general editors. The membership fee is $3.00 a year for subscribers in the United States and Canada and 15/- for subscribers in Great Britain and Europe. British and European subscribers should address B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street, Oxford, England.
Publications for the sixth year [1951–1952]
(At least six items, most of them from the following list, will be reprinted.)
Thomas Gray: An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard (1751). Introduction by George Sherburn.
James Boswell, Andrew Erskine, and George Dempster: Critical Strictures on the New Tragedy of Elvira (1763). Introduction by Frederick A. Pottle.
An Essay on the New Species of Writing Founded by Mr. Fielding (1751). Introduction by James A. Work.
Henry Gally: A Critical Essay on Characteristic Writing (1725). Introduction by Alexander Chorney.
[John Phillips]: Satyr Against Hypocrits (1655). Introduction by Leon Howard.
Prefaces to Fiction. Selected and with an Introduction by Benjamin Boyce.
Thomas Tyers: A Biographical Sketch of Dr. Samuel Johnson ([1785]). Introduction by Gerald Dennis Meyer.
Publications for the first five years (with the exception of nos. 1–4, which are out of print) are available at the rate of $3.00 a year. Prices for individual numbers may be obtained by writing to the Society.
The Augustan Reprint Society — William Andrews Clark Memorial Library — 2205 West Adams Boulevard, los Angeles 18, California
Make check or money order payable to The Regents of the University of California.