To MRS. P— , With some Drawings of BIRDS and INSECTS . The kindred arts to please thee shall conspire , One dip the pencil , and one string the lyre . POPE . AMANDA bids ; at her command again I seize the pencil , or resume the pen ; No other call my willing hand requires , And friendship , better than a Muse inspires . Painting and poetry are near allied ; The kindred arts two sister Muses guide ; This charms the eye , that steals upon the ear ; There sounds are tun'd ; and colours blended here : This with a silent touch enchants our eyes , And bids a gayer brighter world arise : That , less allied to sense , with deeper art Can pierce the close recesses of the heart ; By well set syllables , and potent sound , Can rouse , can chill the breast , can sooth , can wound ; To life adds motion , and to beauty soul , And breathes a spirit through the finish'd whole : Each perfects each , in friendly union join'd ; This gives Amanda's form , and that her mind . But humbler themes my artless hand requires , Nor higher than the feather'd tribe aspires . Yet who the various nations can declare That plow with busy wing the peopled air ? These cleave the crumbling bark for insect food ; Those dip their crooked beak in kindred blood : Some haunt the rushy moor , the lonely woods ; Some bathe their silver plumage in the floods ; Some fly to man ; his houshold gods implore , And gather round his hospitable door ; Wait the known call , and find protection there From all the lesser tyrants of the air . The tawny EAGLE seats his callow brood High on the cliff , and feasts his young with blood . On Snowden's rocks , or Orkney's wide domain , Whose beetling cliffs o'erhang the western main , The royal bird his lonely kingdom forms Amidst the gathering clouds , and sullen storms ; Thro' the wide waste of air he darts his sight And holds his sounding pinions pois'd for flight ; With cruel eye premeditates the war , And marks his destin'd victim from afar : Descending in a whirlwind to the ground , His pinions like the rush of waters sound ; The fairest of the fold he bears away , And to his nest compels the struggling prey ; He scorns the game by meaner hunters tore , And dips his talons in no vulgar gore . With lovelier pomp along the grassy plain The silver PHEASANT draws his shining train ; On India's painted shore , by Ganges' stream , He spreads his plumage to the sunny gleam : But when the wiry net his flight confines , He lowers his purple crest , and inly pines ; The beauteous captive hangs his ruffled wing Oppress'd by bondage , and our chilly spring . To claim the verse , unnumber'd tribes appear That swell the music of the vernal year : Seiz'd with the spirit of the kindly spring They tune the voice , and sleek the glossy wing : With emulative strife the notes prolong And pour out all their little souls in song . When winter bites upon the naked plain , Nor food nor shelter in the groves remain , By instinct led , a firm united band , As marshall'd by some skilful general's hand , The congregated nations wing their way In dusky columns o'er the trackless sea ; In clouds unnumber'd annual hover o'er The craggy Bass , or Kilda's utmost shore : Thence spread their sails to meet the southern wind , And leave the gathering tempest far behind ; Pursue the circling sun's indulgent ray , Course the swift seasons , and o'ertake the day . Not so the Insect race , ordain'd to keep The lazy sabbath of a half-year's sleep . Entomb'd , beneath the filmy web they lie , And wait the influence of a kinder sky ; When vernal sun-beams pierce their dark retreat , The heaving tomb distends with vital heat ; The full-form'd brood impatient of their cell Start from their trance , and burst their silken shell ; Trembling a-while they stand , and scarcely dare To launch at once upon the untried air : At length assur'd , they catch the favouring gale , And leave their sordid spoils , and high in Ether sail . So when Rinaldo struck the conscious rind , He found a nymph in every trunk confin'd ; The forest labours with convulsive throes , The bursting trees the lovely births disclose , And a gay troop of damsels round him stood , Where late was rugged bark and lifeless wood . Lo ! the bright train their radiant wings unfold , With silver fring'd and freckl'd o'er with gold : On the gay bosom of some fragrant flower They idly fluttering live their little hour ; Their life all pleasure , and their task all play , All spring their age , and sunshine all their day . Not so the child of sorrow , wretched man , His course with toil concludes , with pain began : Pleasure's the portion of th' inferior kind ; But glory , virtue , Heaven for Man design'd . What atom forms of insect life appear ! And who can follow nature's pencil here ? Their wings with azure , green , and purple gloss'd , Studded with colour'd eyes , with gems emboss'd , Inlaid with pearl , and mark'd with various stains Of lively crimson thro' their dusky veins . Some shoot like living stars , athwart the night , And scatter from their wings a vivid light , To guide the Indian to his tawny loves , As thro' the woods with cautious step he moves . See the proud giant of the beetle race ; What shining arms his polish'd limbs enchase ! Like some stern warrior formidably bright His steely sides reflect a gleaming light ; On his large forehead spreading horns he wears , And high in air the branching antlers bears ; O'er many an inch extends his wide domain , And his rich treasury swells with hoarded grain . Thy friend thus strives to cheat the lonely hour , With song , or paint , an insect , or a flower : Yet if Amanda praise the flowing line , And bend delighted o'er the gay design , I envy not , nor emulate the fame Or of the painter's , or the poet's name : Could I to both with equal claim pretend , Yet far , far dearer were the name of FRIEND .