Born to the Spacious Empire of the _Nine_, One would have thought, she should have been content To manage well that Mighty Government: But what can young ambitious Souls confine? To the next Realm she stretcht her Sway, } For _Painture_ neer adjoyning lay, } A plenteous Province, and alluring Prey. } A _Chamber of Dependences_ was fram'd, (As Conquerors will never want Pretence, When arm'd, to justifie the Offence) And the whole Fief, in right of Poetry she claim'd. The Country open lay without Defence: For Poets frequent In-rodes there had made, And perfectly could represent The Shape, the Face, with ev'ry Lineament; And all the large Demains which the _Dumb-sister_ sway'd All bow'd beneath her Government, Receiv'd in Triumph wheresoe're she went. Her Pencil drew, what e're her Soul design'd, And oft the happy Draught surpass'd the Image in her Mind. The _Sylvan_ Scenes of Herds and Flocks, And fruitful Plains and barren Rocks, Of shallow Brooks that flow'd so clear, The Bottom did the Top appear; Of deeper too and ampler Flouds, Which as in Mirrors, shew'd the Woods; Of lofty Trees with Sacred Shades, And Perspectives of pleasant Glades, Where Nymphs of brightest Form appear, } And shaggy Satyrs standing neer, } Which them at once admire and fear. } The Ruines too of some Majestick Piece, Boasting the Pow'r of ancient _Rome_ or _Greece_, Whose Statues, Freezes, Columns broken lie, And though deface't, the Wonder of the Eie, What Nature, Art, bold Fiction e're durst frame, Her forming Hand gave Shape unto the Name. So strange a Concourse ne're was seen before, But when the peopl'd Ark the whole Creation bore. VII.