ABSTRACT
A Painter I know 'tis vain ye mountains, and ye woods, To strive to match your wild, and wondrous hues, Ye rocks and lakes, and ever rolling floods, Gold-cinctur'd eve, or morn begemm'd with dews-
Yes, day by day & year by year Ive toild In the lone chamber, and the sunny field To match your beauty; but I have been foil'd: I cannot conquer; but I will not yield-
How oft have I, where spread the pictur 'd scene Wrought on the canvas with fond, anxious care, Deem'd I had equalled Natures, forests green, Her lakes, her rocks, and e'en the ambient air.
