Such chearful modefty, fuch humble state,
Moves certain love; but with as doubtful fate,
As when, beyond our greedy reach, we fee
Inviting fruit on too fublime a tree.

All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found,
Amaz'd we fee in this one garland bound.
Had but this copy (which the artist took
From the fair picture of that noble book)
Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends * had jarr'd;
And, rivals made, th' enfuing ftory marr'd.
Just nature, first inftructed by his thought,

In his own house thus practis'd what he taught:
This glorious piece tranfcends what he could think;·
So much his blood is nobler than his ink!

RARE

TO VAN DYCK.

ARE Artifan, whofe pencil moves
Not our delights alone, but loves!

From thy fhop of beauty we

Slaves return, that enter'd free.

The heedless lover does not know

Whose eyes they are that wound him so:
But, confounded with thy art,
Inquires her name that has his heart.
Another, who did long refrain,

Feels his old wound bleed fresh again,
With dear remembrance of that face,
Where now he reads new hope of grace:

*Pyrocles and Mufidorus,

Nor

Like Neptune, and his * sea-born Niece, shall be
The fhining glories of the land and fea :

With courage guard, and beauty warm, our age;
And lovers fill with like poetic rage.

STA

The world to which you fly so fast,
Conveying day

From us to them, can pay your haste

With no fuch object, nor falute your rife
With no fuch wonder, as De Mornay's eyes.

Well does this prove

The error of those antique books,
Which made you move

About the world: her charming looks
Would fix your beams, and make it ever day,
Did not the rolling earth fnatch her away.

On my Lady DOROTHY SIDNEY'S Picture.

SUCH

UCH was Philoclea, and fuch † Dorus' flame; The matchlefs Sidney, that immortal frame Of perfect beauty, on two pillars plac'd ; Not his high fancy could one pattern, grac'd With fuch extremes of excellence, compofe; Wonders fo diftant in one face difclofe!

* Venus. + Pamela.

Sir Philip Sidney.

Such

Such chearful modefty, fuch humble state,
Moves certain love; but with as doubtful fate,
As when, beyond our greedy reach, we fee
Inviting fruit on too fublime a tree.

All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found,
Amaz'd we fee in this one garland bound.
Had but this copy (which the artist took
From the fair picture of that noble book)
Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends * had jarr'd;
And, rivals made, th' enfuing ftory marr'd.
Just nature, first inftructed by his thought,
In his own house thus practis'd what he taught:
This glorious piece transcends what he could think;
So much his blood is nobler than his ink!

TO VAN DYCK.

RARE Artifan, whofe pencil moves

Not our delights alone, but loves!

From thy fhop of beauty we

Slaves return, that enter'd free.

The heedlefs lover does not know

Whose eyes they are that wound him fo:
But, confounded with thy art,

Inquires her name that has his heart.
Another, who did long refrain,

Feels his old wound bleed frefl again,
With dear remembrance of that face,
Where now he reads new hope of grace:

* Pyrocles and Mufidorus,

Nor

Like Neptune, and his fea-born Niece, fhall be
The fhining glories of the land and sea :

With courage guard, and beauty warm, our age;
And lovers fill with like poetic rage.

SON G.

TAY, Phoebus, ftay!

STA

The world to which you fly so fast,
Conveying day

From us to them, can pay your hafte

With no fuch object, nor falute your rife

With no fuch wonder, as De Mornay's eyes.

Well does this prove

The error of those antique books,
Which made you move

About the world: her charming looks
Would fix your beams, and make it ever day,
Did not the rolling earth fnatch her away.

On my Lady DOROTHY SIDNEY's Picture.

SUCH

UCH was Philoclea, and fuch † Dorus' flame; The matchlefs Sidney, that immortal frame Of perfect beauty, on two pillars plac'd : Not his high fancy could one pattern, grac'd With fuch extremes of excellence, compofe; Wonders fo diftant in one face difclofe !

* Venus. + Pamela.

Sir Philip Sidney.

Such

Such chearful modesty, such humble state,
Moves certain love; but with as doubtful fate,
As when, beyond our greedy reach, we fee
Inviting fruit on too fublime a tree.

All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found,
Amaz’d we see in this one garland bound.
Had but this copy (which the artist took
From the fair picture of that noble book)
Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends * had jarr`d;
And, rivals made, th` ensuing story marr'd.
Just nature, first inftructed by his thought,
In his own house thus practis'd what he taught:
This glorious piece transcends what he could think;
So much his blood is nobler than his ink!

R

TO VAN DYCK.

ARE Artifan, whofe pencil moves

Not our delights alone, but loves!

From thy fhop of beauty we

Slaves return, that enter'd free.

The heedlefs lover does not know

Whose eyes they are that wound him fo:
But, confounded with thy art,

Inquires her name that has his heart.
Another, who did long refrain,

Feels his old wound bleed fresh again,
With dear remembrance of that face,
Where now he reads new hope of grace:

*Pyrocles and Mufidorus,

Nor