Chapter 9

easel, &c. Glycera carrying flowers._

$Pausias$

"Confounded tangle! Who could paint all this? A bear might hug him, or a serpent hiss! For love of nature justly am I famed; But when she goes so far as this, she ought to be ashamed."

$Glycera$

"Nay, be not frightened by a small affray, Pure love of nature cannot pave its way. But lo, where yonder coney-tracks begin, My nymph hath made her favourite bower within. Yon oak hath reared its rugged antlers thus, Before Deucalion lived, or Daedalus. Inside her woodland Majesty doth keep A world of wonders--if one dared to peep-- Of things that burrow, elide, spin webs, or creep; Strange creatures, which before they live must die, And plants that hunt for prey, and flowers that fly!"

$Pausias$

"My love of nature freezes in a trice; I loathe all earwigs, beetles, and wood-lice. Outside her bower the lady must remain, If she doth wish to have her portrait taen."

$Glycera$

"Tis not the lady thou must paint--but me."

$Pausias$

"Aha, that will I, with a glow of glee. But when I offered, somebody was vexed, And blushed, and frowned, and longed to say, 'Whatnext?'"

$Glycera$

"A painter's tongue hath learnt to paint, I trow. But oh that order--I remember now-- For twenty chaplets, from the priest of Zeus! Ah, what a grand majestic Hiereus!" So pleased he was that morning with those three, And such a customer he means to be!

$Pausias$

"The priest of _Dis!_a scoundrel with three wives! I'll pull his triple beard, if he arrives."

$Glycera$

"High words and threats profane this hallowed place, Where Time rebukes the fuss of human race. And gentle sir, what harm hath he done thee? It is my mother whom he comes to see. Lo, how the Gods our puny wrath deride, With peace and beauty spread on every side! This earth with pleasure of the Spring complete, Too bright to dwell on, were it not so sweet. No theft of man it's affluence impairs, A thousand flowers, without a loss, it spares; Whose bashful elegance no brush can trace, Heartfelt delight, and plenitude of grace; No palettes match their brilliance, although Pandora filled her box from Iris' bow."

$Pausias$

"Her want of faith sweet Glycera will rue, When she hath seen what _Pausias_ can do."

$Glycera$ "Forgive me, sir; In truth it was no taunt. A great man can do anything--but vaunt."

$Pausias$

"E'en that he can do, if he sees the need. But out on words, when time hath come for deed! Up leaps the sun, to paint thee with his plume, And every blossom seems to be thy bloom."

$Glycera$

"Why stand we here, so early of the morn, In love with things that treat our love with scorn-- Grey crags, where Time with folded pinion broods, Ana ever young antiquity of woods; The brooks that babble, and the flowers that blush, Ere woman was a reed, or man a rush? And he for ever, as the Gods ordain, Would fain revive with art what he hath slain; Shall nature fail to laugh, while man doth yearn To teach the canvas what he ne'er can learn?"

$Pausias$

"Sweet Muse, while thus through heaven's too distant vault, Thy great mind roves--how shall we earn our salt? Though art is not encouraged as of old, She is worth a score of nature; I design To manufacture, from these flowers of thine, A silver * talent--or perhaps of gold!"

* Lucullus is said to have given two talents for a mere copy of this picture.

$Glycera$

"Good heavens, how precious is your Worship's time! Some minds are lowly, others too sublime. Before thee all my simple flowers I spread; Long may they live, when Glycera is dead!"

$Pausias$

"The Gods forefend! Fair omen from fair maid-- Bright tongue, recall the dark thing thou hast said!"

$Glycera$

"Then long live they, with Glycera to aid!"

$Pausias$

"And Pausias crowned by Critics, to non-plus Euphranor, Cydias, and Antidotus. But what are they? Below my feet they lie; Poor sons of pelf. The son of art am I. Now rest thee, maiden, on this pillowy bed, With fragrance canopied, with beauty spread; Above thee hovers eglantine's caress, Around thee glows entangled loveliness; Shy primrose smiles, thy gentle smile to woo, And violets take thy glances for the dew."

&Glycera&

"Then will they pluck themselves, to see me laugh; Good flowers bring cash; but who will pay for chaff? But haply thus the true poet intervenes, To make us wonder what on earth he means."

$Pausias$

"A poet! We do things in a superior way; A painter is a poet, who makes it pay. A poet, though deep and mystic as the Sphinx, Will ne'er earn half of what he eats and drinks, He dreams of Gods, but of himself he thinks."