Poem by Matthew Prior

Seeing the Duke of Ormond's Picture, at Sir Godfrey Kneller's

Out from the injured canvas, Kneller, strike
These lines too faint; the picture is not like.
Exalt thy thought, and try thy toil again:
Dreadful in arms, on Landen's glorious plain
Place Ormond's Duke: impendent in the air
Let his keen sabre, comet-like, appear,
Where'er it points denouncing death: below
Draw routed squadrons, and the numerous foe
Falling beneath, or flying from his blow;
Till weak with wounds, and cover'd o'er with blood,
Which from the patriot's breast in torrents flow'd,
He faints: he steed no longer hears the rein,
But stumbles o'er the heap his hand had slain.
And now exhausted, bleeding, pale he lies,
Lovely, sad object! in his half-closed eyes
Stern Vengeance yet and hostile Terror stand:
His front yet threatens, and his frowns command.
The Gallic chiefs their troops around him call,
Fear to approach him, though they see him fall.

O Kneller! could thy shades and lights express
The perfect hero in that glorious dress,
Ages to come might Ormond's picture know,
And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow;
In spite of time thy work might ever thine,
Nor Homer's colours last so long as thine.

1. Cloe Jealous
2. If Wine and Music Have the Power
3. Phyllis's Age
4. An Ode - Inscribed to the Memory of the Hon. Colonel George Villiers
5. Answer to Cloe Jealous. The Author Sick

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