Lines To A Promising Young Artist Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEFGGHHIIJJKK LFMMNNFFOOPPQQRRFFST AAUUVVWWXGIIFFYYFFRR ZZA2A2FFSFFFB2B2C2C2 C2D2E2MMFFF2G2FFH2H2 MMI2I2FFXXRE2FFI2I2V VE2RJ2G2GGK2K2L2L2FF M2M2C2C2I2I2WWFFN2N2| These bays be thine and tho' not form'd to shine | A |
| Clear as thy colour faultless as thy line | A |
| Yet shall the Muse essay in humble verse | B |
| Thy merits lovely Painting to rehearse | B |
| As when the demon of the winter storm | C |
| Robs each sweet flow'ret of its beauteous form | C |
| The Spirit of the stream in crystal wave | D |
| Sleeps whilst the chilling blasts above him rave | D |
| Till the Sun spreads his animating fires | E |
| And sullen Darkness from the scene retires | F |
| Then mountain nymphs discard their robes of snow | G |
| And in green mantles smile in roseate glow | G |
| And rivers loosen'd from their icy chain | H |
| Spread joy and richness thro' the verdant plain | H |
| Thus in those climes where skies are ever fair | I |
| Each infant Science breath'd a genial air | I |
| Climes where the Earth her stores to all resign'd | J |
| Nor left one selfish passion to the mind | J |
| On her green lap the swain reclin'd his head | K |
| And found his banquet where he found his bed | K |
| Then Painting grew and from the shades of flow'rs A | L |
| There first essay'd her imitative pow'rs | F |
| When urg'd by plunder with the torrent's might | M |
| Nerv'd by the storm and harden'd in the fight | M |
| A race barbarian left their forests wild | N |
| And sought the spot where Love and Learning smil'd | N |
| By Taste unsoften'd these relentless droves | F |
| Burst fair Italia thro' thy sacred groves | F |
| Laid ev'ry flow'r of Art and Fancy waste | O |
| And pour'd a winter o'er the realms of Taste | O |
| Each Science trembled at the ruffian sound | P |
| Forsook her shades and fled her classic ground | P |
| The lofty column prostrate in the dust | Q |
| Defac'd the arch o'erthrown the matchless bust | Q |
| The shatter'd fresco animates no more | R |
| And ruthless winds thro' clefted temples roar | R |
| Florence beheld the scene with sad surprise | F |
| And bade the prostrate pile in grandeur rise | F |
| Then oh thou truly Father of the Art B | S |
| 'Twas thine superior vigour to impart | T |
| Illustrious Cimabue it was thine | A |
| To soar beyond Example's bounded line | A |
| And as the Heav'n directed sceptre's shock | U |
| Produc'd full torrents from the flinty rock | U |
| So streams of taste obey'd thy pencil's call | V |
| And Nature seem'd to start from out the wall | V |
| Hail beauteous art oh that in equal lay | W |
| Could but my Muse thy various pow'rs convey | W |
| 'Tis thine with silent eloquence to shew | X |
| Passion's strong image Beauty's rapt'rous glow | G |
| To soothe the parted lover's anxious care | I |
| Who owns thee fairest of thy sisters fair | I |
| When waves divide him still thro' thee to trace | F |
| The dear resemblance of that cherish'd face | F |
| Which he so oft with trembling lips has prest | Y |
| So often gaz'd upon so often blest | Y |
| Thine too it is to seek the verdant plains | F |
| Where Peace resides where Rustic Beauty reigns | F |
| Or bid the torrent on thy canvass roar | R |
| Or calmly spread the yellow winding shore | R |
| Or show from some vast cliff's extremest verge | Z |
| The frail bark combating the angry surge | Z |
| Oft too on some lone turret wilt thou stand | A2 |
| To trace the fury of th' embattled band | A2 |
| To darken with the clouds of death the skies | F |
| And bid the scenes of blood and havoc rise | F |
| Such and far more thy pow'rs bless'd art to thee | S |
| Inferior far descriptive Poesy | F |
| And tho' sweet Music when she strikes the strings | F |
| When thro' the grove with seraph voice she sings | F |
| The soul enraptur'd with the thrilling stream | B2 |
| Would hail the Maid of Harmony supreme | B2 |
| Yet while her dulcet sounds enchant they die | C2 |
| So shooting stare illume the midnight sky | C2 |
| And as we wonder vanish from the eye | C2 |
| But when resistless Death in mournful hour | D2 |
| Withdraws the drooping painter's mimic pow'r | E2 |
| Improv'd by time his works still charm the sight | M |
| And thro' successive ages yield delight | M |
| Greece early bade the painter's pencil trace | F |
| Each form with force to force she added grace | F |
| For this her Zeuxis she a garland wove | F2 |
| For C that Apelles won her grateful love | G2 |
| Chiefly she called on Painting's magic powers | F |
| To deck the guardians of her lofty tow'rs | F |
| Here D Jove in lightning show'd his awful mien | H2 |
| There Venus with her doves was smiling seen | H2 |
| Till ruthless Time with unabating flight | M |
| O'er Grecian grandeur flung the shades of night | M |
| Long did they settle o'er the darken'd world | I2 |
| Till Raphael's hand the sable curtain furl'd | I2 |
| A pious calm an elevated grace | F |
| Then on the canvass mark'd th' Apostle's face | F |
| Devout applauses ev'ry feature drew | X |
| E'en E such as graceful Sculpture never knew | X |
| In nearer times and on a neighb'ring shore | R |
| Painting but feebly shone obscur'd by pow'r | E2 |
| See Rubens' soul indignantly advance | F |
| Press'd by the pride and vanity of France | F |
| Behold F in fulsome allegory spread | I2 |
| The gaudy iris o'er the victor's head | I2 |
| See Genius deaf to Nature's nobler call | V |
| Waste all its strength upon the banner'd hall | V |
| E'en now tho' Gallia in her blood stain'd car | E2 |
| Spreads over Europe all the woes of war | R |
| Still with consummate craft she tries to prove | J2 |
| How much the peaceful charms engage her love | G2 |
| Treasures of art in lengthen'd gall'ries glow | G |
| And G Europe's plunder Europe's plund'rers show | G |
| Yet of her living artists few can claim | K2 |
| Half the mix'd praise that waits on David's fame | K2 |
| Thrice happy Britain in thy favour'd isle | L2 |
| The sister Arts in health and beauty smile | L2 |
| Tho' no Imperial Gall'ries grace thy shores | F |
| Tho' wealth the public bounty seldom pours | F |
| Yet private taste rewards thy painter's toil | M2 |
| And bids his genius grace his native soil | M2 |
| Bless'd country here thy artists can supply | C2 |
| Abundant charms to fix th' admiring eye | C2 |
| In furtive splendour ne'er art thou array'd | I2 |
| No plunder'd country mourns thy ruthless blade | I2 |
| Sees its transported treasures torn away | W |
| To grace a fierce ambitious Tyrant's sway | W |
| Long in this isle where Freedom finds repose | F |
| Whilst raving round her loud the tempest blows | F |
| Oh long befriended may the Arts excel | N2 |
| And bless the sacred spot they love so well | N2 |
John Carr (sir)
(1)
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About Lines To A Promising Young Artist
Lines To A Promising Young Artist is a poem by John Carr (sir). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.