就这样，古老的织锦，墙上的装饰，在最高贵的女神面前，巧手的梭子被蔑视;于是，阿拉克涅和帕拉斯比武，这不朽的作品被认为是最好的。在书中，勇敢的行为并不是战斗;但是，从田野带来的所有名声，都用在了那台织布机上，那善良的妻子在那里劳作。她在分担劳作的同时，也分享着名声，把她那交织在一起的名字和英雄们混在一起。女性不再渴求这样的赞美，而我们现在也很少正确地赞美。因此，人类的各种技艺都被人埋没了，而我们仅有的几项才能既没有提高，也没有进步。就连我，这个要写这篇文章的人，也要按照那位父亲的笔头来写(现在我们看到，每一处阴影和折痕都用的是颜色鲜艳的羊毛)，我也曾谨慎地表示不愿再作尝试。但是，意志证明了更强大的法则。尽管世人的指责都在追求这些艰苦的努力，而我却看到了他的意图。我的心事沉重得想找个发泄的口，总要我用诗句把每一张脸的意思解释清楚。首先是在高位上的塞尔吉乌斯。当他在ELYMAS上往下看的时候，他愁眉紧锁，带着好奇的目光，他在寻找为什么大自然仍然不按自然法则行事的原因。从那巫师的眼睛看到白昼，发出地狱之光，到现在不过一刹那工夫。如果他不去碰它，那一刹那工夫，那强烈的光芒就熄灭了，或者蒙上了面纱。 Throughout th' Extention of his ample Sway, No Fact, like this, the Roman cou'd survey, Who, with spread Hands, invites Mankind to gaze, And sympathize in the profound Amaze. To share his Wonder every one combines, By diff'rent Aspects shewn, and diff'rent Signs. A comely Figure, near the Consul plac'd, With serious Mildness and Instruction grac'd, To Others seems imparting what he saw, And shews the Wretch with reverential Awe: Whilst a more eager Person next we find, Viewing the Wizard with a Skeptic's Mind; Who his fixt Eyes so near him do's apply, We think, enliv'ning Beams might from them fly, To re-inkindle, by so just an Aim, The radial Sparks, but lately check'd and tame, As Tapers new put-out will catch approaching Flame. But dire Surprize th' Enquiry do's succeed, Whilst full Conviction in his Face we read, And He, who question'd, now deplores the Deed. To sacred PAUL a younger Figure guides, With seeming Warmth, which still in Youth presides; And pointing forward, Elder Men directs, In Him, to note the Cause of these Effects; Upon whose Brow do's evidently shine Deputed Pow'r, t' inflict the Wrath Divine; Whilst sad and solemn, suited to their Years, Each venerable Countenance appears, Where, yet we see Astonishment reveal'd, Tho' by the Aged often 'tis conceal'd; Who the Emotions of their Souls disguize, Lest by admiring they shou'd seem less Wise. But to thy Portrait, ELYMAS, we come Whose Blindness almost strikes the Poet dumb; And whilst She vainly to Describe thee seeks, The Pen but traces, where the Pencil speaks. Of Darkness to be felt, our Scriptures write, Thou Darken'd seem'st, as thou would'st feel the Light; And with projected Limbs, betray'st a Dread, Of unseen Mischiefs, levell'd at thy Head. Thro' all thy Frame such Stupefaction reigns, As Night it self were sunk into thy Veins: Nor by the Eyes alone thy Loss we find, Each Lineament helps to proclaim thee Blind. An artful Dimness far diffus'd we grant, And failing seem all Parts through One important Want. Oh! Mighty RAPHAEL, justly sure renown'd! Since in thy Works such Excellence is found; No Wonder, if with Nature Thou'rt at strife, Who thus can paint the Negatives of Life; And Deprivation more expressive make, Than the most perfect Draughts, which Others take. Whilst to this Chiefest Figure of the Piece, All that surround it, Heightnings do encrease: In some, Amazement by Extreams is shewn, Who viewing his clos'd Lids, extend their Own. Nor can, by that, enough their Thoughts express, Which op'ning Months seem ready to confess. Thus stand the LICTORS gazing on a Deed, Which do's all humane Chastisements exceed; Enfeebl'd seem their Instruments of smart, When keener Words can swifter Ills impart. Thou, BARNABAS, though Last, not least our Care, Seem'st equally employ'd in Praise, and Prayer, Acknowledging th' Omnipotent Decree, Yet soft Compassion in thy Face we see; Whilst lifted Hands implore a kind Relief, Tho' no Impatience animates thy Grief; But mild Suspence and Charity benign, Do all th' excesses of thy Looks confine.