Where Needwood’s banks embroidered smile
On bright-hair’d Dove, the british Nile,
Pleas’d Mundy fix’d his easel strong,
And stretch’d his canvass wide and long;
Broad o’er his hand the pallet lies
With pencils for a thousand dyes.
He look’d, and drew, and look’d again,—
—Enamour’d Fancy snatch’d the pen,
Nymphs, Graces, Loves around him throng,
With all the sisterhood of song:
Bright tints by fairy hands were mix’d.
And Witchcraft etch’d the shades betwixt.
Delighted Flora smil’d and drew
The primrose pale, and violet blue.
A Naiad spreads the flake of snow,—
[38]White foams the glittering stream below.
“Give me the pallet,” Love demands,
And stretching forth his baby hands
Dip’d with nice touch his keenest shaft
In all the blushing lakes, and laugh’d;
[39]With sweetest grace the pencil flow’d,
With softest tints the canvass glow’d;
“I’ll draw Mamma,” the Wanton cries,
And Talbot’s features charm our eyes!
With airy ease the white neck bends,
Lock after lock the hair descends:
O’er the fair form the Graces spread
Their vest, and Hymen wreaths the head.
And then Thalia, muse of woe,
Moves o’er the woof her crayon slow.
Here, cold, bewilder’d, tir’d, forlorn,
The Traveller sighs in vain for morn;
Stretch’d on the imprinted snow he lies,
And bends on heaven his stiffening eyes.
There Friendship sits the shade beneath,
And twines for Clarke a fadeless wreath;
Fresh cypress with the flowers she weaves,
And many a tear-drop gems the leaves.
Next o’er the lawn a virgin throng
In sad procession moves along,
Lorn Loves inverted torches bear,
And Pity weeps o’er Vernon’s bier.
To shade the distant ground, and lay
The rising group in bolder day,
A Dryad chalks some dusky strokes,—
Behind umbrageous frown her oaks!
And Swilcar, rent by many a storm,
Rears high in air his leafless form.
Pleas’d Mundy stood with eager eyes,
And watch’d the living figures rise;
Smil’d as the varying colours flow’d,
And sigh’d by turns, and chill’d, and glow’d:
And to the admiring world has shewn
The immortal tablet for his own.