VERSES

To the AUTHOR of the

TRAGEDY of CATO.

WHILE you the Fierce divided Britons Awe,

And Cato, with an equal Virtue, draw,

While Envy is it felf in Wonder loft,

And Factions strive who fhall applaud you most ;
Forgive the fond Ambition of a Friend,

Who hopes himself, not you, to recommend
And joins th' Applaufe which all the Learn d befow
On one, to whom a perfect Work they owe.
To my * light Scenes I once infcrib'd Your Name,
And impotently frove to borrow Fame :

Soon will that die, which adds thy Name to mine,
Let me, then, live, join'd to a Work of Thine.

*Tender Husband, De

dicated to Mr. Addison.

RICHARD STEELE,

HO' Cato fhines in Virgil's Epic Song,
Prefcribing Laws among th' Elysian Throng ;

THO

Tho' Lucan's Verfe, exalted by his Name,
O'er Gods themselves has rais'd the Heroe's Fame ;

A 3

The

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The Roman Stage did ne'er his Image fee,
Drawn at full Length; a Task referv'd for Thee.
By thee we view the finish'd Figure rife,
And awful march before our ravifh'd Eyes;
We hear his voice, afferting Virtue's Cause ;
His Fate renew'd our deep Attention draws,
Excites by Turns our various Hopes and Fears,
And all the Patriot in thy Scene appears.

On Tyber's Banks thy Thought was firft infpir'd;
'Twas there, to fome indulgent Grove retir'd,
Rome's ancient Fortunes rolling in thy Mind,
Thy happy Mufe this manly Work defign'd:
Or in a Dream thou faw'ft Rome's Genius ftand,
And, leading Cato in his facred Hand,
Point out th' immortal Subject of thy Lays,
And ask this Labour, to record his Praife.
'Tis done the Heroe lives, and charms our Age !
While nobler Morals grace the British Stage.
Great Shakespear's Ghoft, the folemn Strain to hear,
(Methinks I fee the lawrell'd Shade appear!)
will hover o'er the Scene, and wond'ring view
His Fav'rite Brutus rivall'd thus by You.
Such Roman Greatness in each Action shines,
Such Roman Eloquence adorns your Lines,
That fure the Sybills Books this Year foretold;
And in fome myftick Leaf was feen inroll'd,

• Rome, turn the mournful Eyes from Africk's Shore, Nor in her Sands thy Cato's Tomb explore!

When thrice Six hundred Times the circling Sun

• His annual Race fhall thro' the Zodiack run,
An Ifle remote his Monument shall rear,
And ev'ry generous Briton pay a Tear.

J. HUGHES.

WHAT

WHAT

HAT do we fee! is Cato then become
A greater Name in Britain than in Rome?
Does Mankind Now admire his Virtues more,
Tho' Lucan, Horace, Virgil wrote before?
How will Pofterity this Truth explain?
"Cato begins to live in Anna's Reign:
The World's great Chiefs in Council or in Arms,
Rife in your Lines with more exalted Charms ;-
Illuftrious Deeds in diftant Nations wrought,
And Virtues by departed Heroes taught;
Raife in your Soul a pure immortal Flame,
Adorn your Life, and confecrate your Fame;
To your Renown all Ages you fubdue,
And Cæfar fought, and Cato bled for you.

All Sou's College,

Oxon.

EDWARD YOUNG.

IS nobly done thus to enrich the Stage,
And raife the Thoughts of a degen'rate Age,

To fhow, how endless Foys from Freedom Spring:
How Life in Bondage is a worthless Thing.
The inborn Greatness of your Soul we view,
You tread the Paths frequented by the Few.
With fo much Strength you write, and fo much Eafe,
Virtue, and Senfe! how durft you hope to please?
Yet Crowds the Sentiments of ev'ry Line
Impartial clap'd, and own'd the Work divine.
Ev'n the fow'r Criticks, who malicious came,
Eager to cenfure, and refolv'd to blame,
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Finding

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Finding the Heroe regularly rise,

Great, while he lives, but greater, when he dies,
Sullen approv'd, too obftinate to melt,

And ficken'd with the Pleasures, which they felt.
No fo the Fair their Paffions fecret kept,
Silent they heard, but as they heard, they wept,
When gloriously the blooming MARCUS dy'd,
And CATO told the Gods, I'm fatisfy'd.
See! how your Lays the British Youth inflame!
They long to shoot, and ripen into Fame.
Applauding Theatres disturb their Reft,

And unborn CATO's heave in ev'ry Breast.
Their nightly Dreams, their daily Thoughts repeat,
And Pulfes high with fancy'd Glories beat.
So, griev'd to view the Marathonian Spoils,
The young THEMISTOCLES vow'd equal Toils;
Did then his Schemes of future Honours draw
From the long Triumphs which with Tears he faw.
How Shall I your unrival'd Worth proclaim,
Loft in the fpreading Circle of your Fame!
We Jaw you the great WILLIAM's Praife rehearse,
And paint Britannia's Joys in Roman Verfe.
We heard at diftance foft, enchanting Strains,
From blooming Mountains, and Italian Plains.
VIRGIL began in English Drefs to shine,
His Voice, his Looks, his Grandeur ftill Divine:
From him too foon unfriendly you withdrew,
But brought the tuneful OVID to our View.
Then, the delightful Theme of ev'ry Tongue,
Th'immortal MARLB'ROUGH was your daring Song.
From Clime to Clime the mighty Victor flew,
From Clime to Clime as swiftly you pursue.
Still with the Heroe's glow'd the Poet's Flame,
Still with his Conquefts you enlarg'd your Fame.
With boundless Raptures here the Mufe cou'd fwell,
And on your ROSA MOND for ever dwell:

There

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There op'ning Sweets, and ev'ry fragrant Flow'r
Luxuriant fmile, a never-fading Bow'r.
Next, human Follies kindly to expofe,

You change from Numbers, but not fink in Profe:
Whether in vifionary Scenes you Play,

Refine our Taftes, or laugh our Crimes away.
Now, by the buskin'd Mufe you fhine confeft,
The Patriot kindles in the Poet's Breaft.
Such Energy of Senfe might Pleasure raife,
Tho' unembellish'd with the Charms of Phrafe:
Such Charms of Phrafe would with Succefs be crown'd,
Tho' Nonfenfe flow'd in the melodious Sound.
The chafteft Virgin needs no Blushes fear,
The Learn'd themselves, not uninftructed, hear.
The Libertine, in Pleafures us'd to roul,
And idly fport with an immortal Soul,

Here comes, and by the virtuous Heathen taught,
Turns pale, and trembles at the dreadful Thought.
When-e'er you traverse vaft Numidia's Plains,
What fluggish Briton in his Ifle remains ?
When Juba feeks the Tyger with Delight,
We beat the Thicket, and provoke the Fight.
By the Defcription warm'd, we fondly fweat,
And in the chilling Eaft-Wind pant with Heat.
What Eyes behold not, how the Stream refines,
'Till by Degrees the floating Mirrour shines ?
While Hurricanes in circling Eddies play,
Tear up the Sands, and sweep whole Plains away,
We fhrink with Horror, and confefs our Fear,
And all the fudden founding Ruin hear.
When purple Robes, diftain'd with Blood, deceive,
And make poor MARCIA beautifully Grieve,
When she her fecret Thoughts no more conceals,
Forgets the Woman, and her Flame reveals,
Well may the Prince exult with noble Pride,
Not for his Libyan Crown, but Roman Bride.