rch nearby says of him that his
diffusive charity and benevolence towards man, his amiable manners, the
goodness of his heart and his exemplary conduct deservedly endeared him
to all his acquaintance.

Hooper Morrison died in 1798; his only son, Thomas Hooper Morrison, in
1824; and his son's widow in 1861. The Yeo Vale property then passed to
his son's niece, Eleanora Elizabeth Hammett, who was the wife of John
Townsend Kirkwood, great-grandfather of the present writer, and the sole
surviving child of Hooper Morrison's youngest--but only
married--daughter.

J. T. Kirkwood
White's Club, London.

* * * *
* * * * *

A

PINDARICK

ODE

on

PAINTING.

Addressed To

JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Esq.

LONDON:
Printed for W. GRIFFIN, in Catharine-Street, Strand.
MDCCLXVII.
[Price One Shilling and Six-pence.]

THE
PREFACE.

As the subject of this Ode is, from the copiousness of it, almost an
inexhaustible one (were I to take notice of all the minuter branches of
this art, in which the several masters have distinguish'd themselves,
such as the painting of fruit, flowers, still-life, game, buildings,
ships, &c.) I have confin'd myself chiefly to the three greater species
of it: namely, History (under which Battle-painting may justly be
included) Landskip and Portraiture----and as, in a composition of this
length, I imagin'd that the perpetual recurrence of the same measure in
such a multiplicity of stanzas would have been rather languid and
fatiguing, I have therefore indulg'd myself in many different kinds of
metre; but, at the same time, have blended them as harmoniously as I
could contrive; by which indulgence I have not only consulted my own
ease, but hope I have likewise, in some degree, consulted the pleasure
of the Reader, by entertaining his ear, at least, with a little variety
of wild music, even if the composition should have no other sort of
merit to recommend it.

A
PINDARICK ODE
ON
PAINTING.

I.

Sweet mimick art! Which to our ravish'd eyes,
From a few blended colours, and the aid
Of attemper'd light and shade,
Bid'st a new creation rise---
Oh! to this song of tributary praise,
Which Poetry thy sister art
Now with friendly homag