20 The god of us verse-men (you know, Child) the sun, How after his journeys he sets up his rest; If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run; At night he reclines on his Thetis's breast. So when I am wearied with wandering all day; To thee, my delight, in the evening I come: No matter what beauties I saw in my way: They were but my visits, but thou art my home. 25 Then finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war; And let us like Horace and Lydia agree: For thou art a girl as much brighter than her, As he was a poet sublimer than me. Joseph Addison 1672-1719 ODE THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT (1712) I. The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 5 Th' unwearied sun, from day to day, The work of an Almighty hand. II. Soon as the evening shades prevail, 10 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And, nightly, to the listening earth, While all the stars that round her burn, III. What though, in solemn silence, all John Gay 1688-1732 FABLE XVIII THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED NOBODY AND EVERYBODY (From Fables, 1727) Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view. The traveller leaping o'er those bounds, 5 Who with his tongue hath armies routed, But flattery never seems absurd; 10 They take the strongest praise on trust. Hyperboles, though ne'er so great, He gave each muscle all its strength; He lost his friends, his practice fail'd; Truth should not always be reveal'd; 25 In dusty piles his pictures lay, For no one sent the second pay. Two bustos, fraught with every grace, A Venus' and Apollo's face, He plac'd in view; resolv'd to please, 30 Who ever sat he drew from these, From these corrected every feature, And spirited each awkward creature. All things were set; the hour was come, His palette ready o'er his thumb; 35 My Lord appear'd; and, seated right, In proper attitude and light, The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece, Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece, Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air; 40Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there, Might well a Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire; The features, fraught with sense and wit, You'll grant are very hard to hit; 45 But yet with patience you shall view, As much as paint and art can do.' Observe the work. My Lord replied, 'Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Besides, my nose is somewhat long; 50 Dear sir, for me, 'tis far too young!' 'Oh! pardon me, (the artist cried) In this we Painters must decide. The piece ev'n common eyes must strike, I warrant it extremely like.' 55 My Lord examin'd it a-new; No looking-glass seem'd half so true. ON A LAP DOG Shock's fate I mourn; poor Shock is now no more! Ye Muses! mourn, ye Chambermaids! deplore. Unhappy Shock! Yet more unhappy fair, Doom'd to survive thy joy and only care. 5 Thy wretched fingers now no more shall deck, And tie the favorite ribband round his neck; No more thy hand shall smooth his glossy hair, And comb the wavings of his pendent ear. Let cease thy flowing grief, forsaken maid! 10 All mortal pleasures in a moment fade: Our surest hope is in an hour destroy'd, And love, best gift of Heaven, not long enjoy'd. Methinks I see her frantic with despair, Her streaming eyes, wrung hands, and flowing 15 Her Mechlin pinners, rent, the floor bestrow, 20 Stream eyes no more, no more thy tresses rend. Though certain omens oft forwarn a state, 25 And dying lions show the monarch's fate, Cease, Celia, cease; restrain thy flowing tears, He's dead. Oh! lay him gently in the ground! 30 And may his tomb be by this verse renown'd. Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid, Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd Alexander Pope 1688-1744 THE RAPE OF THE LOCK (Enlarged version published 1714) CANTO I. What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things, I sing.-This verse to Caryll, Muse! is due; This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view; 5 Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, If she inspire, and he approve my lays. |