A MORNING HYMN, To the Duchefs of Hamilton. WAKE, bright Hamilton, arife, Goddess of Love, and of the day; Awake, difclofe thy radiant eyes, A And fhew the fun a brighter ray. The lark, that wont with warbling throat Or fleeps, or else fufpends his note, Reftore the universe to light, When Hamilton appears, then dawns the day; To offer fongs and hymns of prayer; Like Perfians to the fun, Even life, and death, and fate are there : For in the rolls of ancient deftiny, Th' inevitable book, 'twas noted down, The dying should revive, the living die, As Hamilton fhall fmile, as Hamilton fhall frown! The God, recovering his furprize, Trufts to his wings, away he flies. Swift as an arrow cuts the wind, And leaves his whole artillery behind. Princess, restore the boy his useless darts, With furer charms you captivate our hearts; Love's captives oft their liberty regain, Death only can release us from your chain. EXPLICATION IN FRENCH. CUPIDON DESARMÉ. Fable pour Madame la Princesse D'Auvergne. YUPIDON prenant plaifir de fe trouver toûjours l'entendre: Comme il admiroit un jour fes graces inimitables, dans cette diftraction de fon ame & de fes fens, il laiffa tomber ce dard fatal qui ne manque jamais de percer les cœurs. Elle le ramaffe foudain, & s'armant la belle main; "C'est ainsi, dit-elle, que je me rends maitreffe "de l'amour, tremblez, enfant malin, je veux vanger "tous les maux que tu as fait." Le Dieu étonné, revenant de fa furprize, fe fiant à fes ailes, s'échappe, & s'envole vite comme une fleche qui fend l'air, & lui laiffe la poffeffion de toute fon artillerie. Princeffe, rendez lui fes armes qui vous font inutiles: La nature vous a donné des charmes plus puiffints: Les captifs de l'amour fouvent recouvrent la liberté; Il n'y a que la mort feule qui puiffe affranchir les votres. BACCHUS B BACCHUS DISARMED. To Mrs. Laura Dillon, now Lady Faulkland. ACCHUS to arms, the enemy's at hand, Laura appears; ftand 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. Fly, Bacchus, fly, there's treafon in the cup, For Love comes pouring in with every drop; I feel him in my heart, my blood, my brain, Fly, Bacchus, fly, refiftance is in vain, Or craving quarter, crown a friendly bowl To Laura's health, and give up all thy foul. When men of equal merit love us, And do with equal ardor fue, Thyris, 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. THYRSI S. Mysterious guide of inclination, The victim chosen to die? POPHETIC fury rolls within my breaft, High on a throne appears the martial Queen, In every line of her aufpicious face Soft mercy fmiles, adorn'd with every grace; } Empress and conqu'ror, hail! thee Fates ordain. O'er all the willing world fole arbitrefs 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 oppreflion bear, For all th' opprefs'd become thy instant care. Nations of conqueft proud, thou tam'ft to free, Denouncing war, prefenting liberty; The victor to the vanquifh'd yields a prize, For in thy triumph their redemption lies; Freedom and peace, for ravish'd fame you give, Invade to blefs, and conquer to relieve. So the fun fcorches, and revives by turns, Requiting with rich metals where he burns. Taught by this great example to be just, Succeeding Kings fhall well fulfil their trust; Difcord, and war, and tyranny thall cease, And jarring nations be compell'd to peace; Princes and ftates, like fubjects fhall agree To truft her power, fafe in her piety. When more indulgent to the writers eafe, Our author then, to please you in your way, ANOTHER EPILOGUE, WIT fuccefs, IT once, like Beauty, without art or dress, And ladies must have gems befide their eyes: Our author would excuse these youthful scenes, And gain the church-indulgence for the Muses, PROLOGUE } Thus critics fhould, like thefe, be branded foes, But generous minds have more heroic views, E EPILOGUE To the Jew of Venice. ACH in his turn, the Poet †, and the Prieft §, The man of zeal, in his religious rage, The fcribbler, pinch'd with hunger, writes to dine, But to be tax'd and beaten-is the devil. In the fame antique loom these scenes were wrought, To Mr. Bevil Higgon's excellent Tragedy, called the Antiquity muft privilege to pafs. Generous Conqueror. OUR comic writer is a common foe, None can intrigue in peace, or be a beau, Nor wanton wife, nor widow can be fped, But ftraight this cenfor, in his whim of wit, *Ruffel, a famous undertaker for funerals; alluding to a Comedy written by Sir Richard Steele, entitled, The Funeral. 'Tis Shakespeare's play, and if these scenes mifcarry, Let Gormon* take the stage-or Lady Mary †. To the Ladies. Mr. Dryden's Prologue to the Pilgrim. § Mr, Collier's View of the Stage. * A famous prize-fighter. A famous rope-dancer fo called. PRO As Once a Lover and always a Lover. S quiet monarchs that on peaceful thrones, In fports and revels long had reign'd like drones, Rouzing at length, reflect with guilt and shame, That not one stroke had yet been given for fame; Wars they denounce, and to redeem the past, To bold attempts, and rugged labors hafte: Our poet fo, with like concern reviews The youthful follies of a love-fick Muse; To amorous toils, and to the filent grove, To beauty's fnares, and to deceitful love, He bids farewell; his fhield and lance prepares, And mounts the stage, to bid immortal wars, Vice, like fome monster, fuff'ring none t' escape, Has feiz'd the town, and varies ftill her shape: Here, like fome General, the ftruts in state, While crowds in red and blue her orders wait; There, like fome pensive statesman treads demure, And smiles and hugs, to make deftruction fure : Now under high commodes, with looks erect, Barefac'd devours, in gaudy colours deck'd; Then in a vizard, to avoid grimace, Allows all freedom, but to see the face. In pulpits and at bar fhe wears a gown, In camps a fword, in palaces a crown. Refolv'd to combat with this motley beaft Our poet comes to strike one blow at least, His glass he means not for this jilt or beau, Yet to the Fair he fain would quarter show, IV. Friendship's a cloak to hide fome treacherous end, Your greatest foe, is your profeffing friend; The foul refign'd, unguarded and fecure, The wound is deepeft, and the stroke most fure. V. Juftice is bought and fold; the Bench, the Bar Plead and decide; but gold 's th' interpreter. Pernicious metal! thrice accurft be he Who found thee firft; all evils spring from thee. VI. Sires fell their fons, and fons their fires betray: Succeeds, of fpurious mold, a puny race; VIII. Not fuch the men who bent the stubborn bow, And learnt in rugged sports to dare a foe: Not fuch the men who fill'd with heaps of flain Fam'd Agincourt and Creffy's bloody plain. IX. Haughty Britannia then, inur'd to toil, Spread far and near the terrors of her ifle; True to herself, and to the public weal, No Gallic gold could blunt the British steel. X. Not much unlike, when thou in arms wert feen Eager for glory on th' embattled green, When Stanhope led thee through the heats of Spain To dye in purple Almanara's plain, XI. The refcu'd Empire, and the Gaul fubdu'd, In Anna's reign, our ancient fame renew'd: What Britons could, when justly rous'd to war, Let Blenheim fpeak, and witness Gibraltar. W FORTUNE. EPIGRAM. HEN Fortune feems to fmile, 'tis then I fear Some lurking ill, and hidden mischief near: Us'd to her frowns, I ftand upon my guard, And arm'd in virtue, keep my foul prepared. Fickle and falfe to others fhe may be, I can complain but of her conftancy. Virtutem à me, Fortunam ex aliis VERSES Written in a leaf of the Author's Poems, prefented to the QUEEN. THE MUSE'S LAST DYING SONG. A MUSE expiring, who, with earliest voice, Now on her death-bed, this laft homage pays, Thus fang the Mufe, in her laft moments fir'd tings he is fevere, bold, undertaking; in his nature, gentle, modeft, inoffenfive; he makes ufe of his fatire as a man truly brave of his courage, only upor public occafions and for public good. He compaffionates the wounds he is under the neceffity to probe, or, like a good natured conqueror, grieves at the occafions that provoke him to make fuch havock. There are who object to his verfification; but a diamond is not lefs a diamond for not being polished. Vertification is in poetry what colouring is in painting, a beautiful ornament; but if the proportions are juft, the pofture true, the figure bold, and the refemblance according to nature, though the colours should piece be of inestimable value; whereas the nicest and the fineft colouring art can invent, is but labor in vain, where the reft is wanting. Our prefent writers indeed, for the most part, feem to lay the whole stress of their endeavours upon the harmony of words; but then, like eunuchs, they facrifice their manhood for a voice, and reduce our poetry to be like echo, nothing but found. Thofe indeed who form their judgment only from his writings, may be apt to imagine fo many admirable reflections, fuch diverfity of images and characters, fuch ftrict enquiries into nature, fuch clofe obfervati-happen to be rough, or carelessly laid on, yet may the ons on the feveral humours, manners, and affections of all ranks and degrees of men, and, as it were, fo true and fo perfect a diflection of humankind, delivered with fo much pointed wit and force of expreffion, could be no other than the work of extraordinary diligence and application: whereas others, who have the happiness to be acquainted with the author, as well as his writings, are able to affirm thefe happy performances were due to his infinite genius and natural penetration. We owe the pleafure and advantage of having been fo well entertained and inftructed by him to his facility of doing it; for, if I mistake him not extremely, had it been a trouble to him to write, he would have fpared himself that trouble. What he has performed would indeed have been difficult for another; but the club which a man of ordinary fize could not lift, was but a walking-stick for Hercules. Mr. Wycherley, in his writings, has been the sharp- | eft fatirift of his time; but, in his nature, he has all the foftnefs of the tendereft difpofitions: in his wri In Mr. Wycherley, every thing is mafculine; his Mufe is not led forth as to a review, but as to a battle; not adorned for parade, but execution; he would be tried by the sharpnefs of his blade, and not by the finery; like your heroes of antiquity, he charges in iron, and feems to defpife all ornament but intrinfic merit; and like thofe heroes has therefore added another name to his own, and by the unanimous confent of his cotemporaries, is diftinguished by the just appellation of Manly Wycherley. LANSDOWNE. PELEUS |