35ß MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. be ever at rest till thou art acquainted with Jesus, who is the resurrection and the life. XXVIII.To a Painter restoring an Old Picture. SIR, WHEN you take a review of the former labours of your pencil, and retouch the features of Idalio with so skilful a hand, you remove the brown veil which rolling years have spread over them, and brighten all the piece into its early form and loveli- ness. There rises a fresh vigour upon the looks, and the spirit of the poet is infused again into the image of our aged friend. We see and wonder how the eyes resume their youth and fire ; what a genius glows in the countenance; and new light and life are scattered over all the shadow of the man, who himself is basting to death and darkness. O could you renew all the living originals, and recover them from the deformations and disgraces of time, as easily as your pencil calls their portraits back again from age, you would be the first man in the universe for wealth and fame. Even the gross- est sensualist, who is strongly attached to his cups and his amours, would relinquish them both to make his way to your hand, and offer all the remnant of his patrimony for a cast of your favour: Aurato, the decrepid miser, would bring his mines of gold, and lay them at your foot ; while his daughter Quad- rille, in her fortieth year, throws down her cards in haste to increase the crowd at your door, and intreat the blessings of your art. But nature, alas! hath fixed the limits of youth, beauty, and vigour; narrow limits indeed ! and when once passed, they are unrepassable. The broken lines of an ancient painting may be re-united and grow strong, the features may rise round and elevated, and the colours glow again with sprightly youth ; but our real form grows cold and pale, it sinks, it flattens, it withers into wrinkles; the decay is resistless and perpetual, and reco- very lies beyond the reach of hope. This shadow of Idalio, touched by your pencil, lives again, and will see another age ; but the substance dies daily, and is ready to drop into the dust. 'ro this point of mortality, since it is certain and inevitable, let us often- direct our eyes; let our scattered thoughts be re- collected from all their wanderings, and pay a daily visit to death. Acquaintance wills it in the light of christianity will dispel its darkest terrors. And since Idalio and Apelles, poets and painters, with all their sprightly airs, are borne away with the rest of mankind by the sweeping torrent of time, let us bold the period of life ever in our view, let us all keep our spirits awake, and guard against a surprise. O may your soul and mine never start back from the gloomy gate which opens a pas-
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