Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

I

A А

CU

IMPROMPTU.

UNDER THE LADY HARPER'S NAMI. Written under a Picture of the Countess of Sandwich O Harper, sprightly, young, and gay, drawn in Man's babit.

Sweet as the rofy morn in May, CHEN Sandwich in her sex's garb we see,

Fill to the brim, I'll drink it up

To the last drop, were poison in the cup.
The Queen of Beauty then the seems to be:
Now fair Adonis in this male disguise,
Or little Cupid with his mother's eyes.
No style of empire chang'd by this remove,

UNDER THE LADY MARY VILLIERS' XANE. Who seem'd the Goddess, seems the God of Love.

TF I not love you, Villiers, more

Than ever mortal lov'd before,

With such a passion fixt and fure,
A MORNING HYMN,

As even poffeffion could not cure,

Never to ce se but with my breath;
To the Duchess of Hamilton.

May then this bumper be my death.
WAKE, bright Hamilton, arise,

Goddess of Love, and of the day;
Awake, disclose thy radiant eyes,
And Mew the sun a brighter ray.

CUPID DISARMED. Phæbus in vain calls forth the blushing morn,

To the Princess D'Auvergre. He but creates the day which you adorn.

YUPID, delighting to be near her, The lark, that wont with warbling throat

Charm'd to hehold her, charm'd to hear ber, Early to falute the skies,

As he stood gazing on her face, Or Nceps, or else suspends his note,

Enchanted with each matchless grace, Disclaiming day till you arise.

Loft in the trance, he drops the dart, Goddess awake, thy beams display,

Which never fails to reach the heart: Restore the universe to light,

She seizes it, and arms her hand, When Hamilton appears, then dawns the day ;

“ 'Tis thus I Love himself command ; And when the disappears, begins the night.

Now tremble, cruel boy, she said,

“ For all the mischief you have made. Lovers, who watchful vigils keep, (For lovers never, never fleep)

The God, recovering his surprize, Wait for the rising of the Fair,

Trusts to his wings, away he flies. To offer songs and hymns of prayer ;

Swift as an arrow cuts the wind, Like Persians to the sun,

And leaves his whole artillery behind. Even life, and death, and fate are there :

Princess, restore the boy his useless darts, For in the rolls of ancient destiny,

With surer charms you captivate our hearts ; Th’inevitable book, 'twas noted down,

Love's captives of their liberty regain, The dying should revive, the living die,

Death only can release us from your chain. As Hamilton shall smile, as Hamilton shall frown!

c HR vs. Awake, bright Hamilton, arise,

Goddess of love, and of the day, Awake, disclose thy radiant eyes,

CUPIDON DESARMÉ. And show the fun a brighter ray. Phæbus in vain calls forth the blushing morn,

Fable pour Madame la Princeffe D'Auvergre. He but creates the day which you adorn.

YUPIDON prenant plaisir de se trouver toujours

auprès d'elle ; charmé de la voir, charme de l'entendre : Comme il admiroit un jour les graces

inimitables, dans cette distraction de son ame & de WRITTEN UNDER MRS. HARE'S NAME, UPON

ses sens, il lailla tomber ce dard fatal qui ne manque

jamais de percer les cæurs. Elle le ramalle loud airs, HE Gods of Wine, and Wit, and Love prepare, & s'armant la belle main;

“ C'est ainsi, dit-elle, que je me rends maitrefie Love is enjoin'd to name his favourite toast,

“ de l'amour, tremblez, enfant malin, je veux vanger And Hare's the Goddess that delights him most;

“ tous les maux que tu as fait.” Phæbus approves, and bids the trumpet found, And Bacchus in a bumper sends round.

Le Dieu étonné, revenant de la surprize, fe fiant à ses ailes, s'échappe, & s'envole vite comme une Aleche qui fend l'air, & lui laisse la pollektion de toute

son artillerie. UNDER THE DUCHESS OF BOLTON's.

Princesse, rendez lui les armes qui vous font inutiles : OVE's keenelt darts are radiant Bolton's care,

La nature vous a donné des charmes plus puissants : Which the bright Goddess poisons with despair : Les captifs de l'amour fouvent recouvrent la liberté; The God of Wine the dire effea foresees,

Il n'y a que la mort seule qui puisse affranchir les votres. And sends the juice that gives the lover ease.

BACCHUS

EXPLICATION IN FRENCH.

[ocr errors]

A DRINKING GLASS.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

BACCHUS DISARMED. T. Mrs. Laura Dillon, now Lady Faulkland. BA

ACCHUS to arms, the enemy's at hand,

Laura appears ; stand to your glaffes, ftand, The God of Love, the God of Wine defies, Behold him in full march, in Laura's eyes : Bacchus to arms, and to refift the dart, Each with a faithful brimmer guard his heart. Fiy, Bacchus, fiy, there's treason in the cup, For Love comes pouring in with every drop ; I feel him in my heart, my blood, my brain, Fly, Bacchus, Ay, resistance is in vain, Or craving quarter, crown a friendly bowl To Laura's health, and give up all thy soul.

The foregoing Englied, and applied to Queen Anne.
N
EXT to the Thunderer let Anna stand,

In piety supreme, as in command;
Fam'd for victorious arms and generous aid,
Young Auftria's refuge, and fierce Bourbon's dread.
Titanian leagues in vain shall brave the Rhine,
When to the Eagle, you the thunder jain.

PRO

THYRSIS AND DELIA.

}

SONG IN DIALOGUE.

THYRSI s.

[ocr errors]

And tax you with disdain ; Still to my tender love severe, Untouch'd when I complain?

DELIA. When men of equal merit love us,

And do with equal ardor fue, Thyriss, you know but one must move us,

Can I be yours and Strephon's too ? My eyes view both with mighty pleasure,

Impartial to your high defert, To both alike, efteem I measure, To one alone can give my heart.

THYRSIS. Myfterious guide of inclination,

Tell me, tyrant, why am I
With equal merit, equal passion,
Thus the victim chosen to die?

Why am I
The victim chosen to die?

URGANDA'S PROPHECY. Spoken by way of Epilogue at the firft representation of

The British Enchanters.
ROPHETIC fury rolls within my breast,

And as at Delphos, wben the foaming priest
Full of his God, proclaims the distant doom
Of kings unborn, and nations yet to come ;
My tabouring mind so struggles to unfold
On British ground a future age of gold;
But left incredulous ye hear-behold:
Here a Scene representing the QUEEN, and the several

Triumpbs of Her Majesty's Reign.
High on a throne appears the martial Queen,
With grace sublime, and with imperial mein;
Surveying round her, with impartial eyes,
Whom to protect, or whom the shall chastise.
Next to her side, victorious Marlbro' stands,
Waiting, observant of her dread commands;
The Queen ordains, and like Alcides, hc
Obeys, and executes her high decree.
In every line of her auspicious face
Soft mercy (miles, adorn'd with every grace;
So angels look, and so when heaven decrees,
They scourge the world to piety and peace.

Empress and conqu’ror, bail! thec Fates ordain
O'er all the willing world foie arbitress to reign;
To no one people are thy laws confin'd,
Great Britain's Queen, but guardian of mankind;
Sure hope of all who dire oppression bear,
For all th' oppress'd become thy instant care.
Nations of conquest proud, thou tam'ft to free,
Denouncing war, presenting liberty ;
The victor to the vanquish'd yields a prize,
For in thy triumph their redemption lies ;
Freedom and peace, for ravish'd fame you give,
Invade to bless, and conquer to relieve.
So the sun scorches, and revives by turns,
Requiting with rich metals where he burns.

Taught by this great example to be just, Succeeding Kings Thall well fulfil their truit; Discord, and war, and tyranny shall ceale, And jarring nations be compellid to peace; Princes and states, like subjects shall agree To trust her power, tafe in her piety.

DE L I A. On Fate alone depends success,

And Fancy, Reason over-rules, Or why should virtue ever miss

Reward, so often given to fools ? 'Tis not the valiant, nor the witty,

But who alone is born to please; Love does predestinate our pity,

We choose but whom he first decrees.

A LATIN INSCRIPTION

On a Medal for Lewis XIV of France. ROXIMUS & fimilis regnas, Ludovice, tonanti, Magnus es expansis alis, fed maximus armis,

Protegis hinc Anglos, Teutones inde feris.
Quin coeant toto Titania fædera Rheno,
Illa aquilam tantum, Gallia fulmen habet.

VOL. V.

[merged small][ocr errors]

When more indulgent to the writers ease,
You are too good to be so hard to please ;
No such convulsive pangs it will require
To write the pretty things which you admire.

Our author then, to please you in your way,
Presents you now a bauble of a play:
In jingling rhyme, well fortifi'd and strong,
He fights entrench'd o'er head and ears in long.
If here and there some evil-fated line,
Should chance through inadvertency to shine,
Forgive him, Beaux, he means you no offence,
But begs you for the love of song and dance,
To pardon all the poetry and sense.

Thus critics should, like these, be branded foes,
Who for the poison only, suck the role ;
Snarling and carping, without wit or sense ;
Impeach mistakes, o'erlooking excellence,
As if to every fop it might belong,
Like senators to censure, right or wrong.

But generous minds have more heroic views,
And Love and Honour are the themes they choose.
+ From yon bright heaven our author fetch'd his fire
And paints the passions that your eyes inspire :
Full of that flame, his tender scenes he warms,
And frames his Goddess by your matchless charms.

}

[ocr errors]

ANOTHER EPILOGUE,

EPILOGUE
Designed for the same.

To the Jew of Venice.
IT once, like Beauty, without art or dress,

ACH in his turn, the Poet I, and the Prieft ,

Have viewed the stage, but like false prophets Till by fruition, novelty destroy'd,

guess'd. The nymph must find new charms to be enjoy'd.

The man of zeal, in his religious rage, As by his equipage the man you prize,

Would filence poets, and reduce the stage ;
And ladies must have gems beside their eyes :

The poet, rahly to get clear, retorts
So fares it too with plays; in vain we write, On kings the fcandal, and bespatters courts

. Unless the music and the dance invite,

Both err : for without mincing, to be plain, Scarce Hamlet clears the charges of the night.

The guilt's your own of every odious scene : Would you but fix fome standard how to move, The present time still gives the Atage its mode, We would transform to any thing you love ;

The vices that you practice, we explode ; Judge our desire by our cost and pains,

We hold the glass, and but reflect your shame, Sure the expence, uncertain are the gains.

Like Spartans, by exposing, to reclaim. But though we fetch from Italy and France

The scribbler, pinch'd with hunger, writes to dine, Our fopperies of tune, and mode of dance,

And to your genius must conform his line; Our sturdy Britons scorn to borrow senle :

Not lewd by choice, but merely to submit : Howe'er to foreign fashions we submit,

Would you encourage sense, fenfe would be writ. Still every fop prefers his mother wit.

Good plays we try, which after the first day, In only wit this constancy is shown,

Unseen we act, and to bare benches play ; For never was that arrant changeling known,

Plain sense, which pleas'd your fires an age ago, Who for another's sense would quit his own.

Is loft, without the garniture of thow : Our author would excuse these youthful scenes, At vast expence we labour to our ruin, Begotten at his entrance in his teens :

And court your favour with our own undoing ;
Some childish fancies may approve the toy,

A war of profit mitigates the evil,
Some like the Muse the more for being a boy ; But to be tax'd and beaten is the devil.
And ladies should be pleas’d, if not content,

How was the scene forlorn, and how despis'd,
To find so young a thing, not wholly impotent. When Timon, without music, moraliz'd ?
Our stage-reformers too he would difarm,

Shakespeare's sublime in vain entic'd the throng, In charity so cold, in zeal fo warm ;

Without the aid of Purcel's syren song.
And therefore to atone for stage abuses,
And gain the church-indulgence for the Mufes,

In the same antique loom these scenes were wrought,

Embellith'd with good morals, and juft thought ; He gives his thirds—to charitable uses.

True Nature in her noblest light you sce,
Ere yet debauch'd by modern gallantry,

To trifling jefts, and fulsome ribaldry.
PROLOGUE What rust remains upon the shining mass,
To Mr. Bevil Higgon's excellent Tragedy, called the Antiquity must privilege to pass.
Generous Conqueror.

'Tis Shakespeare's play, and if thefe scenes miscarry,

Let Gormon * take the ftage-or Lady Mary to OUR comic writer is a common foe,

None can intrigue in peace, or be a beau, Nor wanton wife, nor widow can be fped,

+ To the Ladies. Not even * Russel can inter the dead,

| Mr. Dryden's Prologue to the Pilgrim. But straight this cenfor, in his whim of wit, Strips, and presents you naked to the Pit.

Mr, Collier's View of the Stage.

* A famous prize-fighter. * Ruffel, a famous undertaker for funerals; alluding + A famous rope-dancer so called. to a Comedy written by Sir Richard Steele, entitled, The Funeral.

}

Y

PRO

то

Τ Η Σ

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

PROLOGUE

IV.

Friendship's a cloak to hide fome treacherous end, SHE-GALLANTS;

Your greatest foe, is your profefsing friend ;

The soul resign'd, unguarded and secure,
OR,

The wound is deepest, and the stroke most sure.
Once a Lover and always a Lover.

V.
S quiet monarchs that on peaceful

Justice is bought and fold; the Bench, the Bar
Rouzing at length, reflect with guilt and shame, Pernicious metal! thrice accurít be he
That not one stroke had yet been given for fame; Who found thee first; all evils spring from thee.
Wars they denounce, and to redeem the past,
To bold attempts, and rugged labors hafte:

VI. Our poet so, with like concern reviews

Sires fell their fons, and fons their fires betray: The yonthful follies of a love-lick Muse;

And senates vote, as armies fight, for pay; To amorous toils, and to the filent grove,

The wife no longer is restrain'd by shame, To beauty's snares, and to deceitful love,

But has i... husband's leave to play the game.
He bids farewell; his shield and lance prepares,

VII.
And mounts the stage, to bid immortal wars.
Vice, like some monster, fuff'ring none t' escape, Succeeds, of spurious mold, a puny race;

Diseas'd, decrepid, from the mixt embrace
Has seiz'd the town, and varies still her shape :
Here, like some General, the struts in state,

From such defenders what can Britain hope?
While crowds in red and blue her orders wait;

And where, O Liberty! is now thy prop?
There, like some pensive statesman treads demure,

VIII.
And smiles and hugs, to make destruction sure :
Now under high commodes, with looks erect,

Not such the men who bent the stubborn bow, Barefac'd devours, in gaudy colours deck'd;

And learnt in rugged sports to dare a foe: Then in a vizard, to avoid grimace,

Not such the men who fill'd with heaps of dain Allows all freedom, but to see the face.

Fam'd Agincourt and Creffy's bloody plain, la pulpits and at bar she wears a gown,

IX. In camps a sword, in palaces a crown.

Haughty Britannia then, inur’d to toil, Refoly'd to combat with this motley beast

Spread far and near the terrors of her ise;
Our poet comes to strike one blow at least.

True to herself, and to the public weal,
His glass he means not for this jilt or beau, No Gallic gold could blunt the British steel.
Some features of you all be means to show,
On cholen heads, nor lets the thunder fall,

X.
But scatters his artillery at all.

Not much unlike, when thou in arms wert seen Yet to the Fair he fain would quarter show,

Eager for glory on th'embattled green, His tender heart recoils at every blow;

When Stanhope led thee through the heats of Spain If unawares he gives too smart a stroke,

To dye in purple Almanara's plain.
He
means but to correct, and not provoke,

XI.
The rescu'd Empire, and the Gaul subdu'd,

In Anna's reign, our ancient fame renew'd :
O DE

WH Britons could, when juftly rous'd to war,

Let Blenheim Spcak, and witness Gibraltar,
PRESENT CORRUPTION OF MANKIND.
Infcribed to the Lord Falkland.
I.

FOR T U N E.
FALKLAND! offspring of a generous race,

EPIGRAM.
My kindsman, and my friend! from whence this curse HEN Fortune seems to smile, 'tis then I fear
Entailid on man, still to grow worse and worse?

Some lurking ill, and hidden mischief near : II.

Usd to her frowns, I stand upon my guard,

And arm'd in virtue, keep my soul prepared.
Each age industrious to invent new crimes,

Fickle and false to others the may be,
Strives to outdo in guilt preceding times ;
But now we ’re so improv'd in all that 's bad,

I can complain but of her constancy.
We fhall leave nothing for our fons to add.

Virtutem à me,

Fortunam ex aliis
III.
That idol, gold, possesses every heart,
To cheat, defraud, and undermine, is art ?
Virtue is folly; conscience is a jest;

Ę 2

CHA. Religion gain, or priestcraft at the best,

ON

THE

O ,

W

[ocr errors]

A

PRINCESS ROYAL.

W

G

CHARACTER OF MR. WYCHERLEY

V E R S E S
F all our modern wits, none seems to me Written in a leaf of the Author's Poems, presented
Once to have touch'd upon true comedy,

10 the QULEN.
But hafty Shadwell, and slow Wycherley.
Shadwell's unfinish'd works do yet impart

THE MUSE'S LAST DYING SONG. Great proofs of Nature's force, though none of Art;

MUSE expiring, who, with earlieft voice, But Wycherley earns hard whate'er he gains,

Made kings and queens, and beauty's charms He wants no judgment, and he spares no pains, &c.

her choice;
Lord Rochester's Poems. Now on her death-bed, this last homage pays,

o Queen! to thee: accept her dying lays.

So, at th' approach of death, the cygnet tries
Written in a leaf of the Author's Poems, presented to the

To warble one note more and finging dies.
Hail mighty Queen! whose powerful smile alone

Commands subjection, and secures the throne :
HEN we'd exalt some heavenly Fair,

Contending parties, and plebeian rage,
To some bright Goddess we compare :

Had puzzled loyalty for half an age:
Minerva, wisdom; Juno, grace ;

Conquering our hearts, you end the long dispute, And Venus furnishes the face :

All, who have eyes, confess you absolute. In royal Anne's bright form is seen,

To Tory doctrines, even Whigs resign, What comprehends them all-the Queen.

And in your person own a right divine.

Thus sang the Muse, in her last moments fir’d

With Carolina's praise-and then expir’d. Written on a window in the Tower, where Sir Robert

Walpole had been confined, OOD unexpected, evil unforeseen,

tings he is severe, bold, undertaking; in his nature,

gentle, modeft, inoffensive; he makes use of his faAppear by turns, as Fortune shifts the scene :

tire as a man truly brave of his courage, only upon Some rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain, And fall so hard, they bound and rise again.

public occafions and for public good. He compafhonates the wounds he is under the neceffity to probe, or,

like a good natured conqueror, grieves at the occasions * This character, however just in other particulars, that provoke him to make such havock. yet is injurious in one; Mr. Wycherley being repre There are who object to his versification; but a fented as a laborious writer, which every man who has diamond is not less a diamond for not being polihed. the least perfonal knowledge of him can contradict. Versification is in poetry what colouring is in paint

Those indeed who form their judgment only from ing, a beautiful ornament; but if the proportions are his writings, may be apt to imagine so many admirable just, the posture true, the figure bold, and the resemreflections, such diversity of images and characters, blance according to nature, though the colours should such strict enquiries into nature, such close observati- happen to be rough, or carelessly laid on, yet may the ons on the several humours, manners, and affections piece be of inestimable value; whereas the nicest and of all ranks and degrees of men, and, as it were, so the finest colouring art can invent, is but labor in true and so perfect a diffection of humankind, deliver- vain, where the rest is wanting. Our present writers ed with fo much pointed wit and force of expression, indeed, for the most part, seem to lay the whole stress could be no other than the work of extraordinary dili- of their endeavours upon the harmony of words; but gence and application : whereas others, who have the then, like eunuchs, they facrifice their manhood for a happiness to be acquainted with the author, as well as voice, and reduce our poetry to be like echo, nothing his writings, are able to affirm these happy performan- but sound. ces were due to his infinite genius and natural penetra In Mr. Wycherley, every thing is masculine; his tion. We owe the pleasure and advantage of having Muse is not led forth as to a review, but as to a battle; been so well entertained and instructed by him to his not adorned for parade, but execution; he would be facility of doing it; for, if I mistake him not extreme

tried by the sharpnefs of his blade, and not by the ly, had it been a trouble to him to write, he would finery; like your heroes of antiquity, he charges in have spared himself that trouble. What he has per- iron, and seems to despise all ornament but intrinfic formed wonld indeed have been difficult for another ; merit; and like those heroes has therefore added anobut the club which a man of ordinary size could not

ther name to his own, and by the unanimous consent lift, was but a walking-stick for Hercules.

of his cotemporaries, is distinguished by the juft appelMr. Wycherley, in his writings, has been the sharp-lation of Manly Wycherley. eft fatirist of his time; but, in his nature, he has a!!

LANSDOWNE. the softness of the tenderest dispositions : in his wri.

PELEL'S

« ПредишнаНапред »