Your walls not thick, your closets great,
Your salon without depth complete;
Windows each one of which appears,
Like a church door and little peers;
Gilt, wainscoted, and painted white,
It shall with wonder strike the sight.
"Wake, sir," a painter cried aloud,
Be to my art just praise allowed;
The skill of Raphael ne'er was such,
He had not half so soft a touch.
To nature I can give new grace,
And cover all the ceiling's space,
With various figures, which the sight
Beholds at distance with delight."
Crassus awakening, took the plan,
And to examine it began:
Having at length the whole inspected,
At random he its faults corrected;
Then glass in hand a connoisseur
Said, "Look upon this picture, sir;
Buy it, sir, 'twill your chapel grace,
God in His glory suits the place;
The taste alone's enough to show,
That 'tis the work of famed Vatau."
Meantime a bookseller, a cheat,
Whom wits are often forced to treat,
Opens tomes which the works contains,
Of Gacon, Noble, Desfontaines;
Miscellanies of journals store,
My lord begins to read and snore.
I thought we should meet with no further delay, but that we should approach the Temple without encountering any other difficulty; but the journey
