Dire hunger that with meagre visage stalks,
And never fails to cross the poet's walks:

But three short miles soon brought us bounteous aid,
And Mileham's fulness Brisley's want o'erpaid.
See the gay Unicorn the wood adorn,

Fair sign of plenty, with his ivory horn!
Here Ceres spread her fruits with lavish hand,
And Bacchus laughing waited our command.

Hence pleas'd and satisfy'd we take our road,
And sometimes laugh and talk, but oft'ner nod.
Yet this soft indolence not long we kept,
But wak'd to see where others faster slept;
Where Coke's remains beneath the marble rot,
His cases and distinctions all forgot;
His body honor'd and to fame consign'd,
For virtues flowing from th' immortal mind.
What would avail this sumptuous mass of stone,
Were he not from his works for ever known?
Let the survivors of such great men's dust,
Ne'er think to add to virtue by a bust;
If false, posterity will find the lye,

If true, without it, it will never die ;

But through succeeding ages shine the same,

Or from some Leicester catch a brighter flame.

But farewell death, and tombs, and moldering urns Our eye with joy on neighb'ring Raynham turns; Where pleasures undecaying seem to dwell, Such as the happy in Elysium feel,

Where heroes, statesmen, and the virtuous crowd
Receive the great reward of being good.

Such pleasures ev'n on earth had heaven ordain'd,
For him who once our tottering state sustain'd;
Who join'd the glorious freedom-loving crew,
Fix'd to great Caesar what was Caesar's due,
And then, dictator-like, to fields withdrew.
Fair ran the current of his age, serene

As the pure lake that bounds the various scene.
Here whate'er Nature beauteous boasts we find,
Charming when separate, but more charming join'd,
Pleasures, though chang'd, we meet where'er we rove,
On hill, in dale, on plain, in shady grove ;
Here swell the hillocs crown'd with golden grain,
There, at their feet, fair flows the liquid plain,
O'er those the larks extend their labor'd note,
On this the swans in snowy grandeur float.

To Houghton then we take our pleasing way, Thrice happy boundary of a well-spent day; Here cheerful Plenty met the wearied guest, And splendid welcome doubly crown'd our rest.

Thou then, Apollo, aid the Poet's lay,
Thy beams gave lustre to the following day;
When in one house more beauties join'd we found,
Than e'er thou seest in all thy glorious round;
Where Walpole plac'd, with curious happy cost,
Whate'er magnificence or taste can boast,

Where, in what building noblest has, we find
Preserv'd, what painting liveliest e'er design'd.
Seel Sculpture too her beauties here disclose,
Such as old Phidias taught and Rysbrack knows;
Laocoon here in pain still seems to breathe,
While round his limbs the poisonous serpents wreathe,
Life struggling seems through every limb to pass,
And dying torments animate the brass.

The pencil's power the proud saloon displays, And struck with wonder on the paint we gaze.

See the proud Rabbins, at the sumptuous board, Frown on the wretch who kneels before her Lord And the rich unguent, in devotion meet,

Pours, mix'd with tears, on her Redeemer's feet.
In vain with hypocritic rage they glow,

While mercy smooths the heavenly stranger's brow;
He the true penitent with ease descries,
Sees the heart speaking in the melting eyes,
Bids every tear with full effect to stream,
And from his vengeance all her sins redeem.

On the next cloth behold Van Dyck display Celestial innocence, immortal day: His pencil here no more with nature vies, Above her plastic power his genius flies; Soars on Promethean wing aloft, and there Steals forms which heaven-born cherubs only wear;

Pours airs divine into the human frame,
Darts through his children's eyes seraphic flame,
While o'er the sacred forms such beauties reign,
As not belie the sainthood they contain.

Behold! where Stephen fainting yields his breath,
By great Le Sueur again condemn'd to death ;
With strange surprise we view the horrid deed,
And then, to pity melted, turn the head,
Lest, as spectators of the martyr's fall,
We innocently share the crime of Saul.
Here too Albani's pencil charms the eye;
Morellio here unfolds the azure sky,

Sweet modest charms the Virgin's cheek adorn,
To heaven on wings of smiling seraphs borne.

The next gay room is known by Carlo's name, Fair Mausoleum of Maratti's fame!

Such strokes, such equal charms, each picture boasts, We venture not to say which pleases most.

Thus on the galaxy with joy we gaze,

Nor know which star emits the brightest rays.
Yet if beyond himself he ever flew,
If e'er beyond a mortal's touch he drew,
Amidst the glow that from that purple breaks,
Look on yon Pope, nor wonder if he speaks.
With length of days and fame Maratti blest,
Ne'er wept departed genius from his breast!
But, when just drooping, sinking to the ground,
Spread sportive Loves and laughing Cherubs round?

Ev'n Death, approaching, smil'd, and made a stand, And gently stole the pencil from his hand.

Thus falls the sun, and, as he fades away,

Gilds all th' horizon with a parting ray.

Next on the gorgeous cabinet we gaze
Which the full elegance of paint displays;
In strong expressions of each master's mind,
The various beauties of this art we find;
Here vast invention, there the just design,
Here the bold stroke, and there the perfect line;
With ease unequall'd here the drawing flows,
And there inimitable color glows.

With summer here the cloth Bassano warms,
There locks the world in winter's hoary arms,
On the warm view we look with pleas'd amaze,
Then turn to frost, and shudder as we gaze.

Mirth unrestrain'd in rustics humble cells
On cheerful Teniers' laughing canvas dwells,
Nor ever are his warm expressions faint,
But laughing we enjoy the comic paint;
Till scenes more horrid break upon our eye,
Effects of Borgognone's too cruel joy.

Strong was his fancy, and his genius good,
But, bred in camps, he mix'd his tints in blood
Alternate bore the pencil and the sword,

And the same hands that fought, the fight record.