ON THE GREAT ENCOURAGEMENT
GIVEN BY ENGLISH NOBILITY & GENTRY
TO CORREGGIO RUBENS REMBRANDT
REYNOLDS GAINSBOROUGH CATALANI
DUCROWE & DILBURY DOODLE

As the Ignorant Savage will sell his own Wife
For a [Button a (Bauble) Buckle a Bead or] Sword or a Cutlass a dagger or Knife
So the [wise/Learned] Taught Savage Englishman [gives] spends his whole Fortune
[For] On a smear or a squall [that is not] to destroy Picture [nor] or Tune
And I call upon Colonel Wardle
To give these Rascals a dose of Cawdle

Our orchestra
is the cat's nuts—

Banjo jazz
with a nickelplated

amplifier to
soothe

the savage beast—
Get the rhythm

That sheet stuff
's a lot a cheese.

Man
gimme the key

and lemme loose—
I make 'em crazy

with my harmonies—
Shoot it Jimmy

Nobody
Nobody else

but me—
They can't copy it

Wine of the grey sky
Wine of happiness
Invisible rain
Driven down
You bathe me
And I am refreshed:

Yesterday
I was in the city
I stood before
The new station
Watching
The white clouds
Passing
The great Hermes
And flying,
Flying toward Greece.
I saw
The fluted columns
(Not ground Piece into piece But fitted with plaster)
I saw the frieze
Of acanthus:
All that has endured
Through the long days
And the long, long nights
And I thought
Of Phidias,
O wine of the grey sky,
Watching
As there passed
Clouds

If I talk to things
Do not flatter yourself
That I am mad
Rather realize yourself
To be deaf and that
Of two evils, the plants
Being deaf likewise,
I choose that
Which proves by other
Attributes worthier
Of the distinction.

Hear me
You who listen without malice.
Hear me
You crusts of blue moss,
And black earth
In the twisted roots
Of the white tree!

Hear me, black trees
The wind
Howling in your branches!
Hear me
Long red-grass
Matted down
And standing in the wind!
Hear me
Driven leaves!
Hear me

Though Death has claimed my dust
For the earth's need,
Lent me a while on trust
By flower and seed;

Though Failure clutched me in
His iron hand
With that old look and grin
I understand;

They neither can annul
Nor make accurst
The light that through my skull
Sifts still, as first

It did, when in my eyes
(Which now are none)
It woke some dear surmise
Of joy begun,

And those black frosts that stir
In the deep wood
Told me without demur
That life was good.

God ploughed one day with an earthquake,
And drove his furrows deep!
The huddling plains upstarted,
The hills were all a-leap!

But that is the mountain's secret,
Age-hidden in their breast;
‘God's peace is everlasting,’
Are the dream-words of their rest.

He hath made them the haunt of beauty,
The home elect of his grace;
He spreadeth his mornings on them,
His sunsets light their face.

His thunders tread in music
Of footfalls echoing long,
And carry majestic greeting
Around the silent throng.

When wit and genius meet their doom
In all devouring flame,
They tell us of the fate of Rome,
And bid us fear the same.

O'er M URRAY'S loss the muses wept,
They felt the rude alarm,
Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept
His sacred head from harm.

There mem'ry, like the bee that's fed
From Flora's balmy store,
The quintessence of all he read
Had treasur'd up before.

The lawless herd, with fury blind,
Have done him cruel wrong;
The flow'rs are gone—but still we find
The honey on his tongue.

When the blind suppliant in the way,
By friendly hands to Jesus led,
Prayed to behold the light of day,
“Receive thy sight,” the Saviour said.

At once he saw the pleasant rays
That lit the glorious firmament;
And, with firm step and words of praise,
He followed where the Master went.

Look down in pity, Lord, we pray,
On eyes oppressed by moral night,
And touch the darkened lids and say
The gracious words, “Receive thy sight.”

Then, in clear daylight, shall we see
Where walked the sinless Son of God;

How , as a spider's web is spun
With subtle grace and art,
Do thy light footsteps, every one,
Cross and recross my heart!
Now here, now there, and to and fro,
Their winding mazes turn;
Thy fairy feet so lightly go
They seem the earth to spurn.
Yet every step leaves there behind
A something, in thy dance,
That serves to tangle up my mind
And all my soul entrance.

How, as the web the spiders spin
And wanton breezes blow,
Thy soft and filmy laces in
A swirl around thee flow!
The cobweb 'neath thy chin that 's crossed
Remains demurely put,

It autumne was, and cheereful chantecleare
Had warn'd the world tuise that the day drew neare;
The three parts of the night almost war spent,
When I, poore wretch, with loue and fortune rent,
Began my eies to close, and suetest sleep,
Charming my sense, al ouer me did creep,
But scars with Lethe drops and rod of gold
Had he me made a piece of breathing mold.