Our sovereign lords
the passions, Love, Rage, Despair, &c. were graciously pleased to
sit to him in their turns for their portraits: which he was generous
enough to communicate to the public; to the great improvement, no
doubt, of history-painting. It was he who they say poison'd Le Sueur;
who, without half his advantages in many other respects, was so
unreasonable and provoking as to display a genius with which his own
could stand no comparison. It was he and his Gothic disciples, who,
with sly scratches, defac'd the most masterly of this Le Sueur's
performances, as often as their barbarous envy could snugly reach
them. Yet after all these atchievements he died in his bed! A
catastrophe which could not have happened to him in a country
like this, where the _fine arts_ are as zealously and judiciously
patronised as they are well understood.]
Alas! so far from free, so far from brave,
We dare not shew the little Taste we have.
With us you'll see ev'n vanity controul
The most refin'd sensations of the soul. 220
Sad Otway's scenes, great Shakespear's we defy:
"Lord, Madam! 'tis so unpolite to cry!--
For shame, my dear! d'ye credit all this stuff?--
I vow--well, this is innocent enough?"
At Athens long ago, the Ladies--(married) 225
Dreamt not they misbehav'd tho' they miscarried,
When a wild poet with licentious rage
Turn'd fifty furies loose upon the stage.
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