PAINTING. Addressed To JOSHUA REYNOLDS, Esq. LONDON: Printed for W. GRIFFIN, in Catharine-Street, Strand. MDCCLXVII. [Price One Shilling and Six-pence.] THE PREFACE. As the subject of this Ode is, from the copiousness of it, almost an inexhaustible one (were I to take notice of all the minuter branches of this art, in which the several masters have distinguish'd themselves, such as the painting of fruit, flowers, still-life, game, buildings, ships, &c.) I have confin'd myself chiefly to the three greater species of it: namely, History (under which Battle-painting may justly be included) Landskip and Portraiture----and as, in a composition of this length, I imagin'd that the perpetual recurrence of the same measure in such a multiplicity of stanzas would have been rather languid and fatiguing, I have therefore indulg'd myself in many different kinds of metre; but, at the same time, have blended them as harmoniously as I could contrive; by which indulgence I have not only consulted my own ease, but hope I have likewise, in some degree, consulted the pleasure of the Reader, by entertaining his ear, at least, with a little variety of wild music, even if the composition should have no other sort of merit to recommend it. A PINDARICK ODE ON PAINTING. I. Sweet mimick art! Which to our ravish'd eyes, From a few blended colours, and the aid Of attemper'd light and shade, Bid'st a new creation rise--- Oh! to this song of tributary praise, Which Poetry thy sister art Now with friendly homage pays, Could I contrive thy beauties to impart! With my easy flowing line To unite correctness of design, 10 And make a TITIAN's colouring conspire With RAPHAEL's grace, and BUANOROTI's fire--- II. And this moment I perceive (Or does some illusion bless me, Some sweet madness now possess me?) My tumultuous bosom heave, Like the rapt SIBYLL's when she feels the load, The painful influence of th' in-rushing God--- III. Yes---once again with joy I find (Nor think my friend th' assertion bold) 20 This languid age-enfeebled mind, As in life's prime, it's powers unfold--- Again th' ideal scenes arise, The visions stream before my eyes, Resistless on the rous'd imagination pour, And paint themselves as lively as before----- IV. But be this mental picture grac'd With all th' adornings fancy can bestow, How is it's beauty now effac'd, 30 How fast all it's splendor declines, Out-dazzled by those brighter lines Which on yonder canvas glow---- V.