The Philosopher, the Young Man, and his Statue by Anne Kingsmill Finch
A Fond Athenian Mother brought A Sculptor to indulge her Thought, And carve her Only Son; Who to such strange perfection wrought, That every Eye the Statue caught Nor ought was left undone.
A youthful Smile adorn'd the Face, The polish gave that Smile a Grace; And through the Marble reigns (Which well the Artist's Skill cou'd trace, And in their due Positions place) A Thread of purple Veins.
The Parasites about it came, (Whose Praises were too large to name) And to each other said; The Man so well had reach'd his Aim, Th' Original cou'd o'er it claim Only a native Red.
Mean while a Sage, amidst the Croud, Thus, with a Precept wise and loud, Check'd the Vain-glorious Boy; By telling him, who now grew proud, That tho' with Beauty 'twas endow'd, The Figure was a Toy:
Of no Advantage to the State, 'Twou'd neither combate, nor debate, But idly stand alone; Bids him beware, whilst Men create In Stone thus his Resemblance great, He proves not like the Stone.