'Twill cost you _Thought_, but richly pays the _Pain_;
What _first_, what _second_, or what _last_ to place,
What here will _shine_, and there the _Work_ disgrace.
Before you build, your MODEL justly lay,
And ev'ry Part in _Miniature_ survey;
Where airy _Terraces_ shall threat the _Skies_,
Where _Columns_ tow'r, or neat _Pilasters_ rise;
Where cool _Cascades_ come _roaring_ down the Hill,
Or where the _Crystal Nymph_ a _mossie Bason_ fill:
What _Statues_ are to grace the _Front_ design'd, 360
And how to throw the _meaner Rooms_ behind.
Draw the _Main Strokes_ at first, 'twill shew your _Skill_,
_Life-Touches_ you may add whene'er you will.
Ev'n _Chance_ will sometimes all our _Art_ excel,
The _angry Foam_ we ne'er can _hit_ so well.
A _sudden Thought_, all beautiful and bright,
Shoots in and _stunns_ us with _amazing Light_;
Secure the _happy Moment_ e'er 'tis past,
Not _Time_ more _swift_, or _Lightning_ flies so fast.
All must be _free_ and _easie_, or in vain 370
You _whip_ and _spur_, and the _wing'd Courser_ strain:
When _foggy Clouds_ hang _bellying_ in the _Skies_,
Or _fleety Boreas_ through th' _Horizon_ flies;
He then, whose _Muse_ produces ought that's _fine_,
His _Head_ must have a _stronger Turn_ than mine:
Like _Sybils Leaves_ the _Train of Thoughts_ are rang'd,
Which by _rude Winds_ disturb'd, are _nothing_ if they're chang'd.
Or are there too in _Writing softer Hours_?
Or is't that _Matter_ nobler _Mind_ o'erpow'rs,
Which boasts her _native Liberty_ in vain, 380