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
.