PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1713. : WHAT Kings henceforth fhall reign, what states be Is fix'd at length by Anna's juft decree; Whofe brows the Mufe's facred wreath fhall fit With beating hearts the rival poets wait Till you Athenians fhall decide their fate, Secure when to thefe learned feats they come [free, Poor is the player's fame, whose whole renown Is but the praife of a capricious town, While with mock majesty and fancy'd pow'r He ftruts in robes, the monarch of an hour! Oft' wide of nature must he act a part, ΙΟ Make love in tropes, în bombast break his heart, And rhyme and quibble in the pangs of death. Tho' crown'd with fame they dare not think it due, Great Cato's felf, the glory of the ftage! 26 30 35 40 Who from the ancient ftores their knowledge bring, And tafted early of the Mufe's fpring. May none pretend upon her throne to fit 45 48 COLIN AND LUCY, A BALLAD. OF Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair, Till luckless love and pining care Her coral lips and damask cheeks, Oh! have you feen a lily pale So droop'd the flow-confuming maid, By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ring fwains Of vengeance due to broken vows, Three times all in the dead of night Too well the lovelorn maiden knew And thus in dying words bespoke The virgins weeping round: "I hear a voice you cannot hear "Which fays I must not stay; "I fee a hand you cannot fee Which beckons me away: 24 28 "By a falfe heart and broken vows "In early youth I die. "Was I to blame because his bride "Was thrice as rich as I? 32 "Ah, Colin! give not her thy vows, "Vows due to me alone; "Nor thou, fond Maid! receive his kifs, "Nor think him all thy own. 36 "To-morrow in the church to wed "Impatient both prepare; "But know, fond Maid! and know, falfe Man! "That Lucy will be there. 40 "Then bear my corfe, my Comrades! bear, "This bridegroom blithe to meet, "He in his wedding-trim so gay, "I in my windingsheet." 44 She fpoke; fhe dy'd. Her corfe was borne The bridegroom blithe to meet, He in his wedding-trim fo gay, She in her windingsheet. Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts? 48 From the vain bride, ah! bride no more! One mould with her, beneath one fod, 64 Oft' at this grave the conftant hind And plighted maid are feen; 68 |