Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Tickell (1781).djvu/138

Struck with like wounds of old Pygmalion pray'd,
And hugg'd to life his artificial maid.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Clasp, new Pygmalion! Clasp the seeming charms,
Perhaps ev'n now th' enliv'ning image warms,
Destin'd to crown thy joys and revel in thy arms; 20
Thy arms, which shall with fire so fierce invade
That she at once shall be and cease to be a maid. 22

 

TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER,

AT HIS COUNTRY SEAT.

To Whitton's shades and Hounslow's airy plain
Thou, Kneller! tak'st thy summer flights in vain,
In vain thy wish gives all thy rural hours
To the fair villa and wellorder'd bow'rs;
To court thy pencil early at thy gates 5
Ambition knocks and fleeting Beauty waits;
The boastful Muse of others' fame so sure
Implores thy aid to make her own secure:
The Great, the Fair, and if aught nobler be,
Aught more belov'd, the Arts solicit thee. 10
How canst thou hope to fly the world, in vain
From Europe fever'd by the circling main,
Sought by the kings of ev'ry distant land,
And ev'ry hero worthy of thy hand?
Hast thou forgot that mighty Bourbon fear'd 15
He still was mortal till thy draught appear'd?