ss, who, with graceful ease
And native majesty, are formed to please,
Behold those arts with a propitious eye,
That suppliant to their great protectress fly!
Then shall they triumph, and the British stage
Improve her manners and refine her rage,
More noble characters expose to view,
And draw her finished heroines from you.
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Nor you the kind indulgence will refuse,
Skilled in the labours of the deathless Muse:
The deathless Muse with undiminished rays
Through distant times the lovely dame conveys:
To Gloriana[13] Waller's harp was strung;
The queen still shines, because the poet sung.
Even all those graces, in your frame combined,
The common fate of mortal charms may find,
(Content our short-lived praises to engage,
The joy and wonder of a single age,)
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Unless some poet in a lasting song
To late posterity their fame prolong,
Instruct our sons the radiant form to prize.
And see your beauty with their fathers' eyes.

TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER[14] ON HIS PICTURE OF THE KING.[15]

Kneller, with silence and surprise
We see Britannia's monarch rise,
A godlike form, by thee displayed
In all the force of light and shade;
And, awed by thy delusive hand,
As in the presence-chamber stand.
The magic of thy art calls forth
His secret soul and hidden worth,
His probity and mildness shows,
His care of friends and scorn of foes:
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In every stroke, in every line,
Does some exalted virtue shine,
And Albion's happiness we trace
Through all the features of his face.
Oh may I live to hail the day,
When the glad nation shall survey
Their sovereign, through his wide command,
Passing in progress o'er the land!
Each heart shall bend, and every voice
In loud applauding shouts rejoice,
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Whilst all his gracious aspect praise,
And crowds grow loyal as they gaze.
This image on the medal placed,
With its bright round of titles graced,
And stamped on British coins, shall live,
To richest ores the value give,
Or, wrought within the curious mould,
Shape and adorn the running gold.
To bear this form, the genial sun
Has daily, since his course begun,
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Rejoiced the metal to refine,
And ripened the Peruvian mine.
Thou, Kneller, long with noble pride,
The foremost of thy art, hast vied
With nature in a generous strife,
And touched the canvas into life.
Thy pencil has, by monarchs sought,