The peace both parties want is like to last: Which if secure, securely we may trade;
Or, not secure, should never have been made. 145 Safe in ourselves, while on ourselves we stand, The sea is ours, and that defends the land. Be, then, the naval stores the nation's care, New ships to build, and batter'd to repair.
Observe the war, in every annual course: What has been done was done with British force: Namur subdu'd is England's palm alone; The rest besieg'd; but we constrain'd the town: We saw the event that follow'd our success; France, though pretending arms, pursu'd the
Oblig'd, by one sole treaty, to restore
What twenty years of war had won before. Enough for Europe has our Albion fought: Let us enjoy the peace our blood has bought. When once the Persian king was put to flight, 160 The weary Macedons refus'd to fight: Themselves their own mortality confess'd; And left the son of Jove to quarrel for the rest.
E'en victors are by victories undone ; Thus Hannibal, with foreign laurels won,
V. 152. Namur subdu'd is England' s palm, &c.] In the year 1695, William III. carried Namur, after a siege of one month. The garrison retired to the citadel, which capitulated upon honourable terms in another month. The courage of our men in this siege was much admired, as was the conduct of the king. D.
To Carthage was recall'd, too late to keep his own. While sore of battle, while our wounds are green, Why should we tempt the doubtful dye again? In wars renew'd, uncertain of success; Sure of a share, as umpires of the peace.
A patriot both the king and country serves: Prerogative, and privilege, preserves:
Of each our laws the certain limit show; One must not ebb, nor t'other overflow: Betwixt the prince and parliament we stand; 175 The barriers of the state on either hand:
May neither overflow, for then they drown the land. When both are full, they feed our bless'd abode; Like those that water'd once the paradise of God. Some overpoise of sway, by turns, they share; 180 In peace the people, and the prince in war: Consuls of moderate power in calms were made; When the Gauls came, one sole dictator sway'd.
Patriots, in peace, assert the people's right; With noble stubbornness resisting might: No lawless mandates from the court receive, Nor lend by force, but in a body give. Such was your generous 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 oppression, till it set him free.
O true descendant of a patriot line,
Who, while thou shar'st their lustre, lend'st them
Vouchsafe this picture of thy soul to see;
'Tis so far good, as it resembles thee:
The beauties to the original I owe;
Which when I miss, my own defects I show: 200 Nor think the kindred muses thy disgrace:
A poet is not born in every race.
Two of a house few ages can afford;
One to perform, another to record. Praiseworthy actions are by thee embrac❜d; And 'tis my praise, to make thy praises last. For e'en when death dissolves our human frame, The soul returns to heaven from whence it came; Earth keeps the body, verse preserves the fame.
TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER, PRINCIPAL PAINTER TO HIS MAJESTY.
ONCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,
And still the sweet idea charms my mind:
True, she was dumb; for Nature gaz'd so long, Pleas'd with her work, that she forgot her 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; Lives there, and wants but words to speak her
At least thy pictures look a voice; and we Imagine sounds, deceiv'd to that degree, We think 'tis somewhat more than just to see. Shadows are but privations of the light; Yet, when we walk, they shoot before the sight; With us approach, retire, arise, and fall; Nothing themselves, and yet expressing all. Such are thy pieces, imitating life
So near, they almost conquer in the strife; And from their animated canvass came, Demanding souls, and loosen'd from the frame. Prometheus, were he here, would cast away His Adam, and refuse a soul to clay; And either would thy noble work inspire, Or think it warm enough without his fire.
But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise; This is the least attendant on thy praise: From hence the rudiments of art began; A coal, or chalk, first imitated man: Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall, Gave outlines to the rude original:
Ere canvass yet was strain'd, before the grace Of blended colours found their use and place, Or cypress tablets first receiv'd a face.
By slow degrees the godlike art advanc'd; 35 As man grew polish'd, picture was enhanc'd:
Greece added posture, shade, and perspective; And then the mimic piece began to live. Yet perspective was lame, no distance true, But all came forward in one common view:
No point of light was known, no bounds of art; When light was there, it knew not to depart, But glaring on remoter objects play'd; Not languish'd, and insensibly decay'd.
Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive, And with old Greece unequally did strive: Till Goths and Vandals, a rude northern race, Did all the matchless monuments deface. Then all the Muses in one ruin lie,
And rhyme began to enervate poetry.
Thus, in a stupid military state,
The pen and pencil find an equal fate. Flat faces, such as would disgrace a skreen, Such as in Bantam's embassy were seen, Unrais'd, unrounded, were the rude delight Of brutal nations, only born to fight. Long time the sister arts, in iron sleep, A heavy sabbath did supinely keep:
At length, in Raphael's age, at once they rise, Stretch all their limbs, and open all their eyes. 60
Thence rose the Roman and the Lombard line: One colour'd best, and one did best design. Raphael's, like Homer's, was the nobler part, But Titian's painting look'd like Virgil's art.
Thy genius gives thee both; where true design, Postures unforc'd, and lively colours join.
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