To Sir Godfrey Kneller, on his Painting the Author's Scornful Mistress
So to the Life you paint, that ev'n you make
The painted Canvas seem to move and speak;
Moving the Passions, speaking to the Eye,
You make Us guilty of Idolatry.
My Goddess in your Draught I may adore,
Who ne'er in Life sat still to Me before:
But oft as I, fond Lover! gaz'd, would turn
Her Eyes away in Hatred, or in Scorn.
But now, whilst I in your fair Picture see,
And gaze with Transport on her Beauties, She
Nor changes Looks, nor frowns, but does appear
To look on Me, e'en whilst I look on Her.
Here may th' Original your Art upbraid,
Just to her Charms you've thrown her Pride in Shade!
The painted Canvas seem to move and speak;
Moving the Passions, speaking to the Eye,
You make Us guilty of Idolatry.
My Goddess in your Draught I may adore,
Who ne'er in Life sat still to Me before:
But oft as I, fond Lover! gaz'd, would turn
Her Eyes away in Hatred, or in Scorn.
But now, whilst I in your fair Picture see,
And gaze with Transport on her Beauties, She
Nor changes Looks, nor frowns, but does appear
To look on Me, e'en whilst I look on Her.
Here may th' Original your Art upbraid,
Just to her Charms you've thrown her Pride in Shade!
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