THE WINTER'S WALK. BEHOLD, my Fair! where'er we rove, Not only through the wasted plain, Enliven Hope and fond Desire, Resign the heart to Spleen and Care! Scarce frighted Love maintains her fire, And Rapture saddens to Despair! In groundless Hope and causeless Fear, Unhappy man! behold thy doom! Still changing with the changeful year, The slave of sunshine and of gloom! Tired with vain joys, and false alarms; A NEW PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, THURSDAY, APRIL 5, 1750, AT THE REPRESENTATION OF 'COMUS,' FOR THE BENEFIT OF MRS. ELIZABETH FOSTER, MILTON's GRAND-DAUGHTER, AND ONLY SURVIVING DESCENDant. YE patriot crowds, who burn for England's fame! Ye Nymphs, whose bosoms beat at MILTON's name; Whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes, Shames the mean Pensions of Augustan Times! Immortal Patrons of succeeding days, Attend this Prelude of perpetual praise! The slighted Arts, futurity shall trust; At length, our mighty Bard's victorious Lays And baffled Spite, with hopeless anguish dumb, With ardent haste, each candidate of fame He sees, and pitying sees, vain Wealth bestow Thus graced with humble Virtue's native charms, Her Grandsire leaves her in BRITANNIA's arms! Secure with peace, with competence, to dwell; While tutelary nations guard her cell! Yours is the charge, ye Fair! ye Wise! ye Brave! 'Tis yours to crown desert-beyond the grave! TO STELLA. NOT the soft sighs of vernal gales, Not all the gems on India's shore, Not all Peru's unbounded store; Not all the power, nor all the fame, That Heroes, Kings, or Poets claim; Nor knowledge which the Learn'd approve; To form one wish my soul can move! Yet Nature's charms allure my eyes; In lovely STELLA all combine; THE GOBLET OF WINE. My temples, with clusters of grapes I'll entwine; Yet why this resolve to relinquish the Fair? 'Tis Woman, whose charms every rapture impart; At the sound of her voice, Sorrow lifts up her head; And Poverty listens, well pleased, from her shed: While Age, in an ecstasy, goes hobbling along, Beats time, with his crutch, to the tune of her Song. Then bring me a Goblet from BACCHUS's hoard; |