Belov'd companion of the fairest hours That rose for her in joy's resplendent bow'rs, How gaily shone on thy bright Morn of Youth The Star of Pleasure, and the Sun of Truth! Full from their Source descended on thy mind Each gen'rous virtue, and each taste refin'd. Young Genius led thee to his varied fane, Bade thee ask[71] all his gifts, nor ask in vain; Hence novel thoughts, in ev'ry lustre drest Of pointed wit, that diamond of the breast; Hence glow'd thy fancy with poetic ray, Hence music warbled in thy sprightly lay; And hence thy pencil, with his colours warm, Caught ev'ry grace, and copied ev'ry charm, Whose transient glories beam on Beauty's cheek, And bid the glowing Ivory breathe and speak. Blest pencil! by kind Fate ordain'd to save Honora's semblance from[72]her early grave, Oh! while on[73]Julia's arm it sweetly smiles, And each lorn thought, each long regret beguiles, Fondly she weeps the hand, which form'd the spell, Now shroudless mould'ring in its earthy cell! But sure the Youth, whose ill-starr'd passion strove With all the pangs of inauspicious Love, Full oft' deplor'd the Fatal Art, that stole The jocund freedom of its Master's soul! While with nice hand he mark'd the living grace, And matchless sweetness of Honora's face, Th' enamour'd Youth the faithful traces blest, That barb'd the dart of Beauty in his breast; Around his neck th' enchanting Portrait hung, While a warm vow burst ardent from his tongue, That from his bosom no succeeding day, No chance should bear that Talisman away. 'Twas thus[74]Apelles bask'd in Beauty's blaze, And felt the mischief of the steadfast gaze; Trac'd with disorder'd hand Campaspe's charms, And as their beams the kindling Canvas warms, Triumphant Love, with still superior art, Engraves their wonders on the Painter's heart.