Peinture. A Panegyrick To The Best Picture Of Friendship, Mr. Pet. Lilly. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDBBEEFFGG HIJJKKLLBBMMBBGGNNBB GGGOPPQQGGRRGGQQOODD SSTTBBUEVVOOWXYYZZQQ A2A2BBB2B2C2C2D2D2E2 E2F2G2H2I2BBJ2J2DDK2 K2J2J2L2L2MMM2M2J2J2 BBL2L2J2J2A2A2J2J2| If Pliny Lord High Treasurer of al | A |
| Natures exchequer shuffled in this our ball | B |
| Peinture her richer rival did admire | C |
| And cry'd she wrought with more almighty fire | D |
| That judg'd the unnumber'd issue of her scrowl | B |
| Infinite and various as her mother soul | B |
| That contemplation into matter brought | E |
| Body'd Ideas and could form a thought | E |
| Why do I pause to couch the cataract | F |
| And the grosse pearls from our dull eyes abstract | F |
| That pow'rful Lilly now awaken'd we | G |
| This new creation may behold by thee | G |
| - | |
| To thy victorious pencil all that eyes | H |
| And minds call reach do bow The deities | I |
| Bold Poets first but feign'd you do and make | J |
| And from your awe they our devotion take | J |
| Your beauteous pallet first defin'd Love's Queen | K |
| And made her in her heav'nly colours seen | K |
| You strung the bow of the Bandite her son | L |
| And tipp'd his arrowes with religion | L |
| Neptune as unknown as his fish might dwell | B |
| But that you seat him in his throne of shell | B |
| The thunderers artillery and brand | M |
| You fancied Rome in his fantastick hand | M |
| And the pale frights the pains and fears of hell | B |
| First from your sullen melancholy fell | B |
| Who cleft th' infernal dog's loath'd head in three | G |
| And spun out Hydra's fifty necks by thee | G |
| As prepossess'd w' enjoy th' Elizian plain | N |
| Which but before was flatter'd in our brain | N |
| Who ere yet view'd airs child invisible | B |
| A hollow voice but in thy subtile skill | B |
| Faint stamm'ring Eccho you so draw that we | G |
| The very repercussion do see | G |
| Cheat HOCUS POCUS Nature an assay | G |
| O' th' spring affords us praesto and away | O |
| You all the year do chain her and her fruits | P |
| Roots to their beds and flowers to their roots | P |
| Have not mine eyes feasted i' th' frozen Zone | Q |
| Upon a fresh new grown collation | Q |
| Of apples unknown sweets that seem'd to me | G |
| Hanging to tempt as on the fatal tree | G |
| So delicately limn'd I vow'd to try | R |
| My appetite impos'd upon my eye | R |
| You sir alone fame and all conqu'ring rime | G |
| File the set teeth of all devouring time | G |
| When beauty once thy vertuous paint hath on | Q |
| Age needs not call her to vermilion | Q |
| Her beams nere shed or change like th' hair of day | O |
| She scatters fresh her everlasting ray | O |
| Nay from her ashes her fair virgin fire | D |
| Ascends that doth new massacres conspire | D |
| Whilst we wipe off the num'rous score of years | S |
| And do behold our grandsire s as our peers | S |
| With the first father of our house compare | T |
| We do the features of our new born heir | T |
| For though each coppied a son they all | B |
| Meet in thy first and true original | B |
| Sacred luxurious what princesse not | U |
| But comes to you to have her self begot | E |
| As when first man was kneaded from his side | V |
| Is born to's hand a ready made up bride | V |
| He husband to his issue then doth play | O |
| And for more wives remove the obstructed way | O |
| So by your art you spring up in two noons | W |
| What could not else be form'd by fifteen suns | X |
| Thy skill doth an'mate the prolifick flood | Y |
| And thy red oyl assimilates to blood | Y |
| Where then when all the world pays its respect | Z |
| Lies our transalpine barbarous neglect | Z |
| When the chast hands of pow'rful Titian | Q |
| Had drawn the scourges of our God and man | Q |
| And now the top of th' altar did ascend | A2 |
| To crown the heav'nly piece with a bright end | A2 |
| Whilst he who in seven languages gave law | B |
| And always like the Sun his subjects saw | B |
| Did in his robes imperial and gold | B2 |
| The basis of the doubtful ladder hold | B2 |
| O Charls a nobler monument than that | C2 |
| Which thou thine own executor wert at | C2 |
| When to our huffling Henry there complain'd | D2 |
| A grieved earl that thought his honor stain'd | D2 |
| Away frown'd he for your own safeties hast | E2 |
| In one cheap hour ten coronets I'l cast | E2 |
| But Holbeen's noble and prodigious worth | F2 |
| Onely the pangs of an whole age brings forth | G2 |
| Henry a word so princely saving said | H2 |
| It might new raise the ruines thou hast made | I2 |
| O sacred Peincture that dost fairly draw | B |
| What but in mists deep inward Poets saw | B |
| 'Twixt thee and an Intelligence no odds | J2 |
| That art of privy council to the gods | J2 |
| By thee unto our eyes they do prefer | D |
| A stamp of their abstracted character | D |
| Thou that in frames eternity dost bind | K2 |
| And art a written and a body'd mind | K2 |
| To thee is ope the Juncto o' th' abysse | J2 |
| And its conspiracy detected is | J2 |
| Whilest their cabal thou to our sense dost show | L2 |
| And in thy square paint'st what they threat below | L2 |
| Now my best Lilly let's walk hand in hand | M |
| And smile at this un understanding land | M |
| Let them their own dull counterfeits adore | M2 |
| Their rainbow cloaths admire and no more | M2 |
| Within one shade of thine more substance is | J2 |
| Than all their varnish'd idol mistresses | J2 |
| Whilst great Vasari and Vermander shall | B |
| Interpret the deep mystery of all | B |
| And I unto our modern Picts shall show | L2 |
| What due renown to thy fair art they owe | L2 |
| In the delineated lives of those | J2 |
| By whom this everlasting lawrel grows | J2 |
| Then if they will not gently apprehend | A2 |
| Let one great blot give to their fame an end | A2 |
| Whilst no poetick flower their herse doth dresse | J2 |
| But perish they and their effigies | J2 |
Richard Lovelace
(1)
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About Peinture. A Panegyrick To The Best Picture Of Friendship, Mr. Pet. Lilly.
Peinture. A Panegyrick To The Best Picture Of Friendship, Mr. Pet. Lilly. is a poem by Richard Lovelace. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.