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TO MR. JERVAS,
With Mr. DRYDEN'S Tranflation of FRESNOY'S Art of Painting.
THIS Epiftle, and the two following, were written fome years before the reft, and originally printed in 1717.
HIS Verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This, from no venal or ungrateful Muse. Whether thy hand ftrike out fome free defign, Where Life awakes, and dawns at every Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mafs, And from the canvafs call the mimic face: Read these inftructive leaves, in which conspire Frefnoy's close Art, and Dryden's native Fire: And reading wifh, like theirs, our fate and fame, So mix'd our ftudies, and fo join'd our name; Like them to fhine through long fucceeding age, So just thy skill, fo regular my rage.
Smit with the love of Sifter-Arts we came, And met congenial, mingling flame with flame; Like friendly colours found them both unite, And each from each contract new ftrength and light. How oft in pleafing tasks we wear the day, While fummer-funs roll unperceiv'd away! How oft our slowly-growing works impart, While Images reflect from art to art!
How oft review; each finding like a friend
Something to blame, and fomething to commend! What flattering scenes our wandering fancy wrought, Rome's pompous glories rifing to our thought! Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,
Fir'd with Ideas of fair Italy.
With thee on Raphael's Monument I mourn,
With thee repose, where Tully once was laid,
While Fancy brings the vanifh'd piles to view,
Here thy well-ftudied marbles fix our eye;
Each heavenly piece unwearied we compare,
Match Raphael's grace with thy lov'd Guido's air,
Paulo's free ftroke, and Titian's warmth divine.
This fmall, well-polish'd Gem, the work of years! 40
Mufe! at that Name thy facred forrows fhed,
Bid her be all that chears or softens life,
Oh, lafting as those Colours may they shine,
Strong as their charms, and gentle as their foul;
And these be fung till Granville's Myra die:
TO MISS BLOUNT,
WITH THE WORKS OF VOITURE..
N these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces fhine,
And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before;
Let the strict life of graver mortals be
A long, exact, and ferious Comedy;
In every scene fome Moral let it teach,
And, if it can, at once both please and preach.
Let mine, an innocent
And more diverting ftill than regular,
Have Humour, Wit, a native Eafe and Grace,
Though not too strictly bound to Time and Place:
Few write to thofe, and none can live to thefe.
Too-much your Sex are by their forms confin'd,
Custom, grown blind with Age, must be your guide;
Well might you wish for change by thofe accurft,
Still in constraint your fuffering Sex remains,
Whole years neglected, for fome months ador'd,
The fawning Servant turns a haughty Lord.
Ah, quit not the free innocence of life,
For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife;
Nor let falfe Shews, nor empty Titles please:
Aim not at Joy, but rest content with Ease.
The Gods, to curfe Pamela with her prayers,
Gave the gilt Coach and dappled Flanders Mares, 50