TO A LADY SITTING FOR HER PICTURE. Sir James Marriott Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1137 K093079.004 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. IV. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 22-24. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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TO A LADY SITTING FOR HER PICTURE . BY THE SAME . THE weary look , desponding air , Ill suits , my Dear , a face so fair ; Resume your smiles ; again supply The Graces caught by Fancy's eye . While Wilson sketches out the piece , We'll talk , to pass the time , of Greece ; Of Greece , as you have often heard , For warriors , and for wits rever'd ; The seat of Learning , and the Graces , Fam'd for fine arts , but finer faces ; Where Painters , Poets , not as since , Were greater held than any Prince ; In temples , palaces carest , None more the Ladies smiles possest ; For they were rich as well as clever , And riches were successful ever ; Priests , Senates , Nations , Kings desir'd The works their heaven-taught art inspir'd , And if a pencil chanc'd to drop , An Alexander pick'd it up ; Beauties would run to be sketch'd over ; The haughty Prince , tho' much a lover , Once for the copy , payment small , Resign'd up the original , The fair Campaspé's matchless charms , More conquering than the Monarch's arms , To one Apelles ; one who drew The Queen of Love , as Wilson you . Each lovely maid , of Greece the toast , Such as our British isle can boast , In all their native beauty gay , As Hebé young , and sweet as May , Before him sate : from one he chose The eye which Love half seem'd to close ; This lent a face divinely fair , A mild , and yet majestic air ; That gave what art in vain would seek , The spirits mantling in the cheek , And lips that softness seem'd to speak . Thus , from their various charms combin'd , One perfect Whole imprest his mind ; But had Apelles painted now , He might , my Dear , have copied you , And , as in truth , I think , was done , He would have from the picture run , And left the Venus but begun , To sacrifice the pride of art To the bright Goddess of his heart , And given up an immortal claim , For beauty's prize , the prize of fame .