To Sir Godfrey Kneller, Principal Painter To His Majesty.[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDEEFGHHH IIJJKKLL MMNO PPQQJRSSS TTUVWWXXYY VVSSHHZZA2A2II B2B2DD C2C2XX C2D2E2E2F2F2GG IISSIIE2E2G2H2I2I2J2 J2AAK2K2 SSL2L2L2M2M2C2C2N2N2 N2N2O2P2LLEEE SSN2N2Q2R2UVV S2S2LLHH N2N2N2N2N2N2 HHC2C2C2T2MHH VUU2U2V2V2 W2W2N2N2 SSN2N2WWD2C2 N2N2N2N2N2N2MM| Once I beheld the fairest of her kind | A |
| And still the sweet idea charms my mind | A |
| True she was dumb for Nature gazed so long | B |
| Pleased with her work that she forgot her tongue | C |
| But smiling said She still shall gain the prize | D |
| I only have transferr'd it to her eyes | D |
| Such are thy pictures Kneller such thy skill | E |
| That Nature seems obedient to thy will | E |
| Comes out and meets thy pencil in the draught | F |
| Lives there and wants but words to speak her thought | G |
| At least thy pictures look a voice and we | H |
| Imagine sounds deceived to that degree | H |
| We think 'tis somewhat more than just to see | H |
| - | |
| Shadows are but privations of the light | I |
| Yet when we walk they shoot before the sight | I |
| With us approach retire arise and fall | J |
| Nothing themselves and yet expressing all | J |
| Such are thy pieces imitating life | K |
| So near they almost conquer in the strife | K |
| And from their animated canvas came | L |
| Demanding souls and loosen'd from the frame | L |
| - | |
| Prometheus were he here would cast away | M |
| His Adam and refuse a soul to clay | M |
| And either would thy noble work inspire | N |
| Or think it warm enough without his fire | O |
| - | |
| But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise | P |
| This is the least attendant on thy praise | P |
| From hence the rudiments of art began | Q |
| A coal or chalk first imitated man | Q |
| Perhaps the shadow taken on a wall | J |
| Gave outlines to the rude original | R |
| Ere canvas yet was strain'd before the grace | S |
| Of blended colours found their use and place | S |
| Or cypress tablets first received a face | S |
| - | |
| By slow degrees the godlike art advanced | T |
| As man grew polish'd picture was enhanced | T |
| Greece added posture shade and perspective | U |
| And then the mimic piece began to live | V |
| Yet p rspective was lame no distance true | W |
| But all came forward in one common view | W |
| No point of light was known no bounds of art | X |
| When light was there it knew not to depart | X |
| But glaring on remoter objects play'd | Y |
| Not languish'd and insensibly decay'd | Y |
| - | |
| Rome raised not art but barely kept alive | V |
| And with old Greece unequally did strive | V |
| Till Goths and Vandals a rude northern race | S |
| Did all the matchless monuments deface | S |
| Then all the Muses in one ruin be | H |
| And rhyme began to enervate poetry | H |
| Thus in a stupid military state | Z |
| The pen and pencil find an equal fate | Z |
| Flat faces such as would disgrace a screen | A2 |
| Such as in Bantam's embassy were seen | A2 |
| Unraised unrounded were the rude delight | I |
| Of brutal nations only born to fight | I |
| - | |
| Long time the sister arts in iron sleep | B2 |
| A heavy sabbath did supinely keep | B2 |
| At length in Raphael's age at once they rise | D |
| Stretch all their limbs and open all their eyes | D |
| - | |
| Thence rose the Roman and the Lombard line | C2 |
| One colour'd best and one did best design | C2 |
| Raphael's like Homer's was the nobler part | X |
| But Titian's painting look'd like Virgil's art | X |
| - | |
| Thy genius gives thee both where true design | C2 |
| Postures unforced and lively colours join | D2 |
| Likeness is ever there but still the best | E2 |
| Like proper thoughts in lofty language dress'd | E2 |
| Where light to shades descending plays not strives | F2 |
| Dies by degrees and by degrees revives | F2 |
| Of various parts a perfect whole is wrought | G |
| Thy pictures think and we divine their thought | G |
| - | |
| Shakspeare thy gift I place before my sight | I |
| With awe I ask his blessing ere I write | I |
| With reverence look on his majestic face | S |
| Proud to be less but of his godlike race | S |
| His soul inspires me while thy praise I write | I |
| And I like Teucer under Ajax fight | I |
| Bids thee through me be bold with dauntless breast | E2 |
| Contemn the bad and emulate the best | E2 |
| Like his thy critics in the attempt are lost | G2 |
| When most they rail know then they envy most | H2 |
| In vain they snarl aloof a noisy crowd | I2 |
| Like women's anger impotent and loud | I2 |
| While they their barren industry deplore | J2 |
| Pass on secure and mind the goal before | J2 |
| Old as she is my Muse shall march behind | A |
| Bear off the blast and intercept the wind | A |
| Our arts are sisters though not twins in birth | K2 |
| For hymns were sung in Eden's happy earth | K2 |
| - | |
| But oh the painter Muse though last in place | S |
| Has seized the blessing first like Jacob's race | S |
| Apelles' art an Alexander found | L2 |
| And Raphael did with Leo's gold abound | L2 |
| But Homer was with barren laurel crown'd | L2 |
| Thou hadst thy Charles a while and so had I | M2 |
| But pass we that unpleasing image by | M2 |
| Rich in thyself and of thyself divine | C2 |
| All pilgrims come and offer at thy shrine | C2 |
| A graceful truth thy pencil can command | N2 |
| The fair themselves go mended from thy hand | N2 |
| Likeness appears in every lineament | N2 |
| But likeness in thy work is eloquent | N2 |
| Though nature there her true resemblance bears | O2 |
| A nobler beauty in thy peace appears | P2 |
| So warm thy work so glows the generous frame | L |
| Flesh looks less living in the lovely dame | L |
| Thou paint'st as we describe improving still | E |
| When on wild nature we ingraft our skill | E |
| But not creating beauties at our will | E |
| - | |
| But poets are confined in narrower space | S |
| To speak the language of their native place | S |
| The painter widely stretches his command | N2 |
| Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land | N2 |
| From hence my friend all climates are your own | Q2 |
| Nor can you forfeit for you hold of none | R2 |
| All nations all immunities will give | U |
| To make you theirs where'er you please to live | V |
| And not seven cities but the world would strive | V |
| - | |
| Sure some propitious planet then did smile | S2 |
| When first you were conducted to this isle | S2 |
| Our genius brought you here to enlarge our fame | L |
| For your good stars are everywhere the same | L |
| Thy matchless hand of every region free | H |
| Adopts our climate not our climate thee | H |
| - | |
| Great Rome and Venice early did impart | N2 |
| To thee the examples of their wondrous art | N2 |
| Those masters then but seen not understood | N2 |
| With generous emulation fired thy blood | N2 |
| For what in nature's dawn the child admired | N2 |
| The youth endeavour'd and the man acquired | N2 |
| - | |
| If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree | H |
| 'Tis only wanting to this age not thee | H |
| Thy genius bounded by the times like mine | C2 |
| Drudges on petty draughts nor dare design | C2 |
| A more exalted work and more divine | C2 |
| For what a song or senseless opera | T2 |
| Is to the living labour of a play | M |
| Or what a play to Virgil's work would be | H |
| Such is a single piece to history | H |
| - | |
| But we who life bestow ourselves must live | V |
| Kings cannot reign unless their subjects give | U |
| And they who pay the taxes bear the rule | U2 |
| Thus thou sometimes art forced to draw a fool | U2 |
| But so his follies in thy posture sink | V2 |
| The senseless idiot seems at last to think | V2 |
| - | |
| Good heaven that sots and knaves should be so vain | W2 |
| To wish their vile resemblance may remain | W2 |
| And stand recorded at their own request | N2 |
| To future days a libel or a jest | N2 |
| - | |
| Else should we see your noble pencil trace | S |
| Our unities of action time and place | S |
| A whole composed of parts and those the best | N2 |
| With every various character express'd | N2 |
| Heroes at large and at a nearer view | W |
| Less and at distance an ignobler crew | W |
| While all the figures in one action join | D2 |
| As tending to complete the main design | C2 |
| - | |
| More cannot be by mortal art express'd | N2 |
| But venerable age shall add the rest | N2 |
| For time shall with his ready pencil stand | N2 |
| Retouch your fingers with his ripening hand | N2 |
| Mellow your colours and embrown the tint | N2 |
| Add every grace which time alone can grant | N2 |
| To future ages shall your fame convey | M |
| And give more beauties than he takes away | M |
John Dryden
(1)
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About To Sir Godfrey Kneller, Principal Painter To His Majesty.[1]
To Sir Godfrey Kneller, Principal Painter To His Majesty.[1] is a poem by John Dryden. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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