Mark if the fools, or men of fenfe, rejoice; raife, 11 And, for their ignorance, contemn their praise. Judge then, if we who act, and they who write, Should not be proud of giving you delight. 15 Knows what should justly please, and what fhould not. Nature herself lies open to your view; 20 You judge by her, what draught of her is true, Where outlines falfe, and colours feem too faint, Where bunglers dawb, and where true poets paint. But, by the facred genius of this place, By every Muse, by each domeftic grace, 25 Be kind to wit, which but endeavours well, And, where you judge, prefumes not to excel, Our poets hither for adoption come, As nations fued to be made free of Rome: 30 Not in the fuffragating tribes to stand, But in your utmost, last, provincial band, If his ambition may thofe hopes pursue, Who with religion loves your arts and you, Than his own mother-university. 35 Thebes did his green, unknowing, youth engage; He chooses Athens in his riper age. PROLOGUE ΤΟ ALBION AND ALBANIUS. FULL twenty years ftage and more, our labouring Has loft, on this incorrigible age: Our poets, the John Ketches of the nation, Will fairly leave you what your Maker meant you. Satire was once your phyfic, wit your food; 10 One nourish'd not, and t'other drew no blood: Give you ftrong fenfe, the liquour is too heady; You're come to farce,-that's affes milk,-already. Some hopeful youths there are, of callow wit, Who one day may be men, if heaven think fit; Sound may ferve fuch, ere they to fenfe are grown, 21 Like leading-strings, till they can walk alone. But yet, to keep our friends in countenance, know, The wife Italians firft invented show; Thence into France the noble pageant paft: 25 'Tis England's credit to be cozen'd last. Freedom and zeal have chous'd you o'er and o'er ; Pray give us leave to bubble you once more eafe; 30 Change for the worse has ever used to please: Then, 'tis the mode of France; without whose rules, None must presume to fet up here for fools. In France, the oldeft man is always young, Sees operas daily, learns the tunes fo long, Till foot, hand, head, keep time with every fong: 36 Each fings his part, echoing from pit and box, With his hoarfe voice, half harmony, half pox. Le plus grand roi du monde is always ringing, They show themselves good fubjects by their finging: On that condition, fet up every throat; 40 You whigs may fing, for you have chang'd your note. Cits and citeffes, raise a joyful strain, "Tis a good omen to begin a reign; Voices may help your charter to restoring, And get by finging, what you loft by roaring. 45. |