If to my mind, great lord, I had a state, I would present you now with curious plate Of Nuremberg, or Turkey; hang your rooms Not with the Arras, but the Persian looms. I would, if price, or prayer could them get, Send in, what or Romano, Tintaret, Titian, or Raphael, Michael Angelo Have left in fame to equal, or outgo The old Greek hands in picture, or in stone. This I would do, could I think Weston one Catched with these arts, wherein the judge is wise As far as sense, and only by the eyes. But you, I know, my lord; and know you can Discern between a statue, and a man; Can do the things that statues do deserve, And act the business, which they paint, or carve. What you have studied are the arts of life; To compose men, and manners; stint the strife Of murmuring subjects; make the nations know What worlds of blessings to good kings they owe: And mightiest monarchs feel what large increase Of sweets, and safeties, they possess by peace. These I look up at, with a reverent eye, And strike religion in the standers-by; Which, though I cannot as an architect In glorious piles, or pyramids erect Unto your honour: I can tune in song Aloud; and (haply) it may last as long. |