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Some overpoise of sway, by turns, they share ; In
peace the people, and the prince in war : Consuls of mod'rate power in calms were made; When the Gauls came, one fole dictator (way'd.
Patriots, in peace, affert the people's right; With noble stubborness resisting might: No lawless mandates from the court receive, Nor lend by force, but in a body give. Such was your gen'rous grandsire ; free to grant In parliaments, that weigh'd their prince's want : But so tenacious of the common cause, As not to lend the king against his laws. And, in a loathsome dungeon doom'd to lie, In bonds retain'd his birthright liberty, And sham'd oppreffion, till it set him free.
O true descendent of a patriot line,
Two of a house few ages can afford;
EPISTLE the FOURTEENTH.
Sir GODFRÉ Y KNELLER,
Principal PAINTER to his MAJESTY,
NCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,
And still the sweet idea charms True, she was dumb; for nature gaz'd so long, Pleas'd with her work, that she forgot her ton
tongue; But, smiling, said, She still shall gain the prize; I only have transferr'd it to her
eyes. Such are thy pictures, Kneller : such thy skill, That nature seems obedient to thy will
Comes out, and meets thy pencil in the draught;
Shadows are but privations of the light;
But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise ;
Ere canvass yet was strain’d, before the grace
By now degrees the godlike art advanc'd;
Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive,
and pencil find an equal fate.
open all their
Long time the fifter arts, in iron leep,
Thy genius gives thee both ; where true design, Postures unforc'd, and lively colors join. Likeness is ever there; but still the best, Like proper thoughts in lofty language dreft: Where light, to fhades descending, plays, not
strives, Dies by degrees, and by degrees revives. Of various parts a perfect whole is wrought : Thy pictures think, and we divine their thought.
Shakespear, thy gift, I place before my fight; With awe, I ask his blessing ere I write With rev'rence look on his majestic face; Proud to be less, but of his godlike race. His soul inspires me, while thy praise I write, And I, like Teucer, under Ajax fight : Bids thee, thro me, be bold ; with dauntless breast Contemn the bad, and emulate the best.