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| WHEN poets wrote and painters drew, | |
| As nature pointed out the view; | |
| Ere Gothic forms were known in Greece, | |
| To spoil the well-proportioned piece; | |
| And in our verse ere monkish rhymes | 5 |
| Had jangled their fantastic chimes; | |
| Ere on the flowery lands of Rhodes, | |
| Those knights had fixed their dull abodes, | |
| Who knew not much to paint or write, | |
| Nor cared to pray, nor dared to fight,— | 10 |
| Protogenes, historians note, | |
| Lived there, a burgess, scot and lot; | |
| And, as old Pliny’s writings show, | |
| Apelles did the same at Co. | |
| Agreed these points of time and place, | 15 |
| Proceed we in the present case. | |
| Piqued by Protogenes’s fame, | |
| From Co to Rhodes Apelles came, | |
| To see a rival and a friend, | |
| Prepared to censure or commend; | 20 |
| Here to absolve and there object, | |
| As art with candor might direct. | |
| He sails, he lands, he comes, he rings, | |
| His servants follow with the things: | |
| Appears the governante of the house, | 25 |
| For such in Greece were much in use; | |
| If young or handsome, yea or no, | |
| Concerns not me or thee to know. | |
| “Does Squire Protogenes live here?” | |
| “Yes, sir,” says she, with gracious air | 30 |
| And courtesy low, “but just called out | |
| By lords peculiarly devout, | |
| Who came on purpose, sir, to borrow | |
| Our Venus for the feast to-morrow, | |
| To grace the church; ’t is Venus’ day: | 35 |
| I hope, sir, you intend to stay | |
| To see our Venus? ’t is the piece | |
| The most renowned throughout all Greece; | |
| So like the original, they say: | |
| But I have no great skill that way. | 40 |
| But, sir, at six (’t is now past three) | |
| Dromo must make my master’s tea: | |
| At six, sir, if you please to come, | |
| You ’ll find my master, sir, at home.” | |
| Tea, says a critic big with laughter, | 45 |
| Was found some twenty ages after; | |
| Authors, before they write, should read. | |
| ’T is very true; but we ’ll proceed. | |
| “And, sir, at present would you please | |
| To leave your name.” “Fair maiden, yes. | 50 |
| Reach me that board.” No sooner spoke | |
| But done. With one judicious stroke | |
| On the plain ground Apelles drew | |
| A circle regularly true: | |
| “And will you please, sweetheart,” said he, | 55 |
| “To show your master this from me? | |
| By it he presently will know | |
| How painters write their names at Co.” | |
| He gave the panel to the maid. | |
| Smiling and courtesying, “Sir,” she said, | 60 |
| “I shall not fail to tell my master; | |
| And, sir, for fear of all disaster, | |
| I ’ll keep it my own self: safe bind, | |
| Says the old proverb, and safe find. | |
| So, sir, as sure as key or lock,— | 65 |
| Your servant, sir,—at six o’clock.” | |
| Again at six Apelles came, | |
| Found the same prating civil dame. | |
| “Sir, that my master has been here, | |
| Will by the board itself appear. | 70 |
| If from the perfect line be found | |
| He has presumed to swell the round, | |
| Or colors on the draught to lay, | |
| ’T is thus (he ordered me to say), | |
| Thus write the painters of this isle; | 75 |
| Let those of Co remark the style.” | |
| She said, and to his hand restored | |
| The rival pledge, the missive board. | |
| Upon the happy line were laid | |
| Such obvious light and easy shade, | 80 |
| The Paris’ apple stood confessed, | |
| Or Leda’s egg, or Chloe’s breast. | |
| Apelles viewed the finished piece; | |
| “And live,” said he, “the arts of Greece! | |
| Howe’er Protogenes and I | 85 |
| May in our rival talents vie: | |
| Howe’er our works may have expressed | |
| Who truest drew, or colored best, | |
| When he beheld my flowing line, | |
| He found at least I could design: | 90 |
| And from his artful round, I grant, | |
| That he with perfect skill can paint.” * * * * * | |
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