Here let the Muse perform the painter's art

A Self-Portrait

Here let the Muse perform the painter's art,
And strike the picture of my face and heart.
Poesy is called the image of the mind,
In mine my soul and body both are joined:
Large is my forehead made, not wond'rous fair,
But room enough for all the Muses there;
Full are my eyes, and of a harmless blue,
As if no wound they made, no dart they knew;
My eyebrows, circling o'er, a shade bestow,
Veiling the dullness of the eye below;
Nature, so niggard to the upper part,
Fell to my lips, and gave a dash of art:
Oft have I heard her faithful lover swear
That Poetry and Love were shining there;
Even and white my teeth, but rarely shown,
In life I've little cause for smiling known;
The loss of friends fell on my tender years,
Dashed every hope, and turned my smiles to tears;
A gloomy sweetness on my features hung,
Sorrows my pen, and trembles on my tongue;
Slow is its speech, and with no music fraught,
Wronging the richness of my soul's best thought.

But whither is the mournful pencil strayed?
My hair, dark brown, wants not Bucelia's aid,
Flows in the wind, nor of the comb afraid,
Beneath my waist in natural rings descends,
Or pliant to the artful finger bends,
When it betides that dress and I are friends.
Easy my neck, but of no darling white,
Veiled by the lawn from the enquiring sight;
My shoulders full, as Nature's self informs,
Small are my fingers, nor too plump my arms.
To the nice eye no transport they afford,
But to the ear, pressing the speaking chord:
When my cares murmur with a lower breath,
Drop from my eyes, and weep themselves to death.
Again they press to wrong this artless draught,
Bribed by my fate to ruin every thought.
My feet with no ungraceful motion tread,
Though Isaac's steps are from my memory fled;
To decent height my stature is inclined,
Worthy the Muses and a generous mind.
To thy kind eyes Clio submits her form:
Thy verse can give it every absent charm,
Thou, in whom art, and love, and nature shines,
Immortalise my picture in thy lines.
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