THE CROW, THE GAZELLE, THE TORTOISE, AND THE RAT. TO MADAME DE LA SABLIÈRE. I By means of verse, would raise A temple to your lasting praise. Already its foundations lie Based on that art which comes from high, And on the name of her whose fame Adoring clouds shall there proclaim. I'd write above its portal-stones, "This fane the goddess Iris owns;" But not the Iris who for Juno Goes out with messages, as you know; A different Iris, whom the lord Of gods, and Juno, too, were glad To serve, if they her summons had, When she such honour would accord. Th' Apotheosis placed on high Should show the people of the sky My Iris to a throne conducting,-- A throne of sunlight's sole constructing. In frescoes, on the panels placed, Should all her life's sweet tale be traced; A charming story, and one far Remote from all the tales of war. Deep in the Temple's chief recess A painting should in part express Her form, her features, her bright smiles, And all the thousand artless wiles By which she gods and men beguiles. Low at her feet should there be shown All the great men the world may own, Great demi-gods besides, and even The natural habitants of heaven; For certain 'tis that they to whom Men pray, to Iris burn perfume. The artist's care should chiefly be To make her eyes her soul express. But, ah! to paint her tenderness 'Twere all in vain to try; may be No art upon the earth resides Which for a task like this provides, To paint a soul in which combine Man's strength with graces feminine. O Iris! you who charm us all, Before whose heavenly grace we fall, You whom before ourselves we prize (But, mind, I am not making love, For love's a word you don't approve), Yet even from this rough sketch may A better likeness rise, some day. The project of your sacred building I've just for artist-purpose filled in The foreground of a story which Is so with rare-found friendship rich, That, haply, it may favour find With one that is so good and kind. Of friendship monarchs seldom dream But he who gains your heart's esteem Is not a king devoid of love; No, he your gentle thoughts approve Is a brave mortal, who would give His life, that some dear friend might live.