XXIII.

No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embraced, Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweighed:[21] His fortune turned the scale where'er 'twas cast, Though Indian mines were in the other laid.

When absent, yet we conquered in his right; For, though some meaner artist's skill were shown, In mingling colours, or in placing light, Yet still the fair designment was his own.

For, from all tempers he could service draw; The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew; And, as the confident of Nature, saw How she complexions did divide and brew.[22]

Or he their single virtues did survey, By intuition, in his own large breast; Where all the rich ideas of them lay, That were the rule and measure to the rest.

When such heroic virtue heaven sets out, The stars, like commons, sullenly obey; Because it drains them when it comes about, And therefore is a tax they seldom pay.[23]