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ee! What ruder passions tear the troubled breast,

What mild affections sooth the soul to rest,

Each thought to fancy magic numbers raise,
o Expressive picture to the sense conveys.

Hence in all times with social zeal conspire
Who blend the tints, and who attune the lyre. 21
See! in reviving Learning's infant dawn,
Ere yet it's precepts from old ruins drawn,
Sham'd the mock ornaments of Gothic taste,
New Artists form’d, each Grecian bust replac'd;
Ere Leo's voice awak'd the barbarous age,
Oppress’d by monkish law and Vandal rage:
See! Dante, Petrarch, through the darkness strive,
And Giotto's pencil bid their forms survive !
When now maturer growth fair Science knew,
Titian her favor'd sons ambitious drew; 30
Not half so proud with princes to adorn
His tablets, as with wits less nobly born,
Ariosto, Aretine, yet better skill'd
On Letters and on 'Virtue Fame to build:
These in their turn instruct the willing song,
The painter's fading glories to prolong.
In later times, hear Waller's polish'd verse
The various beauties of Vandyck rehearse;
And Dryden in sublimer strains impart
To Kneller praise more lasting than his art. 40

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Friendships like these from time receive no law, Contracted oft with those we never saw ;

In every art who court an endless fame
Through distant ages catch the sacred flame.
See Zeuxis, warm’d by Homer's rage divine,
With rapture read, and what he reads, design!
See Julio, bred on the Parnassian soil,
With Virgil's grandeur dignify his toil !
Clovio, perhaps, like aid to Dante ow'd;
Instant his figure on the canvass glow'd :
To Dante's fame the graceful colors flow,
And wreaths of laurel bind his honor'd brow.

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Thou too, whom Nature and the Muse inspire, Listening the poet's lore hast caught his fire ; el PoitryWith so much spirit every feature fraught, Clovio might own this imitated draught; And Dante, were he conscious of the praise, Would sing thy labors in immortal lays; His melancholy air to gladness turn'd, Nor longer his unthankful Florence mourn’d: 60 Fair Beatrice's charms would lose their force, No more her steps o'er Heaven direct his course; To thee the Bard would grant the nobler place, And ask thy guidance through the paths of peace. Oh! could my eloquence, like his, persuade To leave the bounded walks by others made, Through Nature's wilds bid thy free genius rove, Copy the living race, or waving grove ; Or boldly rising with superior skill, The work with Heroes or with Poets fill;

Then might I claim, deserv'd, the laurel crown,
My verse not quite neglected or unknown ;
Then should the world thy glowing pencil see
Extend the friendship of its art, to me.

ËPISTLE XIV.

ON

BUILDING AND PLANTING,

TO

SIR JAMES LOWTHER, BART.

[Of Lowther-Hall.]

BY JOHN DALTON, D.D.

When stately structures Lowther grace,
Worthy the owner and the place,
Fashion will not the works direct,
But Reason be the Architect.

Ready each beauteous order stands
To execute what she commands.
The Doric grave, where weight requires,
To give his manly strength aspires;
The light Corinthian, richly gay,
Does all embellishments dipslay ;
Between them see, with matron air,
The Ionic, delicately fair!

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These their abundant aid will lend To answer every structure's end.

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To Building can a mode belong
But gay, or delicate, or strong ?
Why search we then for orders new,
Rich in these all-comprising few,
But that the standard rules of Greece
Disdain to humor wild caprice ?
They Fancy's wanton freaks control,
In every part consult the whole,
Teach Art to dress, and not disguise,
Seek lasting fame, not short surprise,
And all adornings to produce
From real or from seeming use,
The place's genius to revere,
And, as he bids, the structure rear.

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Smiles he o'er fragrant Flora's bloom?
Ne'er shock him with a grotto's gloom. 30
Nor with smooth slender columns mock
His roughness in the rugged rock.
Nor by trim steps hand gently down,
(Like dainty dames in formal town)
The nimble Naiades, who bound-

O'er native rocks with sprightly sound.
o Nor roving Dryades confine

Precisely to a single line,
Strait, circular, or serpentine.

All forms arise at Nature's call, 40
And use can beauty give to all.

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