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1.
Two strangers through the town were walking,
Of this and that at leisure talking—
Till, half their journey o’er,
One of them for a moment stood,
And, fill’d with most amazement, view’d
The sign at Taprell’s* door.
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2.
“Dear sir,” said he, “I lately heard,
(And much the dismal tale I fear’d,)
That painting was declining:
But was mistaken, I believe;
And for my comfort I perceive
There’s no such need of whining.
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* An innkeeper, who had for his sign “The Rose and Crown,” very rudely drawn. |
| ORIGINAL—W. GIFFORD. | 113 |
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3.
“For proof of this, lift up your eyes,
And with agreeable surprise,
Confess yourself convicted;
For such the beauty of these lines,
Where so much skill and beauty shines,
It can’t be contradicted.
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4.
Droll Hogarth, and
Sir Godfrey Kneller,
Mast own themselves outdone.
Their feeble efforts can no more
Compare with this than dross with ore,
Or Luna with the sun.”
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5.
Came by a man: “Friend, tell us, do,
This famous painter’s name that drew
‘The Rose and Crown’ so noble.”
He bow’d: “Then hark ye, gentlemen,
If I must tell you flat and plain,
’Twas done by Daniel Dobell!
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6.
“A greater wonder I’ve to tell;
Daniel, though he can paint so well,
A carpenter by trade is:
Many a hog’s stye hath he rear’d;
And he can make, as I have heard,
New limbs for jointed babies.”
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7.
O, Daniel, for a moment lend
Thine car to an officious friend—
Who, if he might, would choose
A subject for thy second piece
Unknown to Rome or ancient Greece,—
Then pray attend the muse.
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8.
With shades and lines—long, short, big, small,
Display the beggar’d prodigal,
A-feeding with the hogs:
If that wont do, then—(let me see)—
Why let thy second painting be
Daniel amid the dogs.
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| 114 | AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. |
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9.
First for thy pallet I advise
That thou dost make (’twill well suffice)
Thy drawing-board of deal;
Then, secondly, thy glue-brush take—
’Twill a most noble pencil make,
By lessening of its tail.
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10.
Thy glue-pot to a paint-pot change,—
Nor think the metamorphis strange,—
And when that thou hast done it,
Suppose thy leather apron gay
To be a piece of canvass grey,
And draw thy portrait on it.
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11.
Let Taprell have our praises too;
To him our thanks are justly due,
For raising from the ground
Where he obscurely grovelling lay,
And bringing to the face of day
A genius so profound.
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12.
Hail! Daniel hail! of parts sublime,—
And do not spend thy precious time
In shoving saw and plane:
Throw those vile, cramping tools away;
Commence a painter—and we’ll say
That Raphael lives
again!
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