ΤΟ

SIR GODFREY KNELLER,

ON HIS

PICTURE OF THE KING.

KNELLER, with silence and surprise
We see Britannia's monarch rise,
A godlike form, by thee display'd
In all the force of light and shade;
And, aw'd 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:
In every stroke, in every line,
Does some exalted virtue shine,
And Albion's happiness we trace
Through all the features of his face.
O 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!

VOL. I.

R

Each heart shall bend, and every voice
In loud applauding shouts rejoice,
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 stamp'd 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,
Rejoic'd the metal to refine,
And ripen'd the Peruvian mine,

Thou, Kneller 1, long with noble pride,
The foremost of thy art, has vied
With nature in a generous strife,

And, touch'd the canvas into life.
Thy pencil has, by monarchs sought,
From reign to reign in ermine wrought,
And in their robes of state array'd,

The kings of half an age display'd.

Here swarthy Charles appears, and there
His brother with dejected air:
Triumphant Nassau here we find,
And with him bright Maria join'd;
There Anna, great as when she sent
Her armies through the continent,

1 Thou, Kneller, etc. If this little poem had begun here, and ended with “their king defied," it had been equal, or superior, to anything in any other poet, on the like occasion.-HURD.

Ere yet her hero was disgrac'd:

0 may fam'd Brunswick be the last,
(Though heaven should with my wish agree,
And long preserve thy art in thee)
The last, the happiest British king,
Whom thou shalt paint, or I shall sing!

Wise Phidias 2, thus his skill to prove,
Through many a god advanc'd to Jove;
And taught the polish'd rocks to shine
With airs and lineaments divine;
Till Greece, amaz'd, and half afraid,
Th' assembled deities survey'd.

Great Pan, who wont to chase the fair,
And lov'd the spreading oak, was there;
Old Saturn too, with upcast eyes,
Beheld his abdicated skies;

And mighty Mars, for war renown'd,
In adamantine armour frown'd;
By him the childless goddess rose,
Minerva, studious to compose

Her twisted threads; the web she strung,
And o'er a loom of marble hung:
Thetis, the troubled ocean's queen

Match'd with a mortal, next was seen,

Reclining on a funeral urn,

Her short-liv'd darling son to mourn.
The last was he, whose thunder slew

The Titan race, a rebel crew,

2 There never was anything happier than this whole illustration, nor more exquisitely expressed.—HURD.

That from a hundred hills allied

In impious leagues their king defied.
This wonder of the sculptor's hand
Produc'd, his art was at a stand:
For who would hope new fame to raise,
Or risk his well-establish'd praise,
That, his high genius to approve,

Had drawn a George, or carv'd a Jove!

POEMATA.

ADDISON'S Latin poems first brought him into repute, and are, indeed, entitled to particular praise. "Three of them," says Dr. Johnson, 66 are upon subjects on which, perhaps, he would not have written in his own language. The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes; the Barometer; and a Bowling-green." His reason for thinking so is, that these objects are too low and uninteresting to become subjects of poetry in our vulgar tongue. We question, however, the justness of the remark, and refer our readers to the titles of some of the prettiest little poems and jeu-d'esprits in the English language to back our opinion. Bourne has written many of his sweetest Latin poems on subjects of much the same stamp.

Our great moralist also tells us, that our author did not confine himself to the imitation of any particular writer in his Latin poems, but formed his style from a general reading of the ancients. Bishop Hurd, however, who gives them great praise, observes, that "they are the better worth reading as they show with what care our young author had studied the prince of Latin poets, and from what source he afterwards derived his sweet Virgilian prose. This Virgilianism," he continues, " if I may so speak,