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---
It's dear resemblance has at least Been in thy faithful lines exprest; 210 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--
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, With sweet attraction still engage, 220 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---
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 The internal character declare, 230 With ease the varied temper we descry, The full-soul beaming from th' expressive eye---
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, From the canvass makes advances, 240 Nay---if we credit the delusive face, She seems just springing to our fond embrace---
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 To call forth all it's force, and rouse thy native fire?--- 250
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 Th' unrivall'd Roscius of the British stage--- 260
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 T' impart the stronger influence to her charms-- 270