Classic Poem

Soul of your honour'd art! what man can do,
In copying nature , may be reach'd by you :
Your peopling pencil a new world can give,
And, like Deucalion , teach the stones to live.
From your creating hand, a war may flow;
And your warm-strokes, with breathing action, glow:
But, from that angel form , to catch the grace ,
And kindle up your ivory , with her face .
All, unconsum'd, to snatch the living fire ,
And limn th' ideas , which those eyes inspire;
Strong, to your burning circle , to confine
That awe-mix'd sweetness , and that air divine;
That sparkling soul , which lightens , from within
And breaks, in unspoke meanings , thro' her skin .
This , if you can — hard task I and yet unprov'd!
Then, shall you be adorn'd , as now belov'd .
Then, shall your high-aspiring colours find
The art, to picture thought , and paint the wind .
Then, shall you give air SHAPE , imprison space ,
And mount the painter to the maker's place.