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To the Author of the


WHILE you the fierce divided Britons awe,

And Cato, with an equal Virtue, draw,

While Envy is it felf in Wonder loft,

And Factions ftrive who fhall applaud you most ;
Forgive the Fond Ambition of a Friend,
Who hopes himself, not you, to recommend ;
And joins the applause which all the Learn'd bestow
On one, to whom a perfect Work they owe.


To my light Scenes I once infcrib'd Your Name,
And impotently ftrove to borrow Fame :

Soon will that die, which adds thy Name to mine;
Let me, then, live, join'd to a Work of Thine.

*Tender Husband, De

dicated to Mr. Addifon.


HO' Cato fhines in Virgil's Epic Song,
Preferibing Laws among th' Elysian Throng;


Tho' Lucan's Verfe, exalted by his Name,

O'er Gods themselves has rais'd the Heroe's Fame ;




The Roman Stage did ne'er his Image fee,
Drawn at full Length; a Task referv'd for Thes.
By thee we view the finish'd Figure rife,
And awful march before our ravish'd Eyess
We hear his Voice, afferting Virtue's Caufe;
His Fate renew'd our deep Attention draws,
Excites by Turns our various Hopes and Fears,
And all the Patriot in thy Scene appears.

On Tiber's Banks thy Thought was first infpir'di
'Twas there, to fome indulgent Grove retir'd,
Rome's ancient Fortunes rolling in thy Mind,
Thy happy Mufe this manly Work defign'd:
Or in a Dream thou faw'ft Rome's Genius ftands.
And, leading Cato in his facred Hand,
Point out th' immortal Subject of thy Lays,
And ask this Labour, to record his Praife.
'Tis done- the Hero lives, and charms our Age!
While nobler Morals the British Stage.
Great Shakespear's Ghoft, the folemn Strain to hear,
(Methinks I fee the laurell'd Shade appear!)
Will hover o'er the Scene, and wond'ring view
His Favorite Brutus rivall'd thus by You.
Such Roman Greatness in each Action fhines,
Such Roman Eloquence adorns your Lines,
That fure the Sibylls Books this Year foretold;
And in fome myftick Leaf was feen inroll'd, -

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Rome, turn thy mournful Eyes from Africk's Shore,
Nor in her Sands thy Cato's Tomb explore!

When thrice Six hundred Times the circling Sun
His annual Race shall thro' the Zodiack run,
An Ifle remote bis Monument shall rear,
• And ev'ry generous Briton pay a Tear.



WHAT do we fee! is Cato than become

A greater Name in Britain than in Rome?
Does Mankind now admire his Virtues more,
Tho' Lucan, Horace, Virgil wrote before?
How will Pofterity this Truth explain?
"Cato begins to live in Anna's Reign:
The World's great Chiefs in Council or in Arms.
Rife in your Lines with more exalted Charms ;
Illuftrious Deeds in diftant Nation's wrought,
And Virtues by departed Heroes taught;
Raife in your Soul a pure immortal Flame,
Adorn your Life, and confecrate your Famez
To your Renown all Ages you fubdue,
And Cæfar fought, and Cato bled for you.

All Souls College,



IS nobly done thus to enrich the Stage,
And raife the Thoughts of a degen rate Age,
To show, how endless Joys from Freedom fpring:
How Life in Bondage is a worthlefs Thing.
The inborn Greatness of your Soul we view,
You tread the Paths frequented by the Few.

With so much Strength you write, and fo much Eafe,
Virtue, and Senfe! how durft you hope to please?
Yet Crowds the Sentiments of ev'ry Line
Impartial clap'd, and own'd the work divine.
Ev'n the four Criticks, who malicious came,
Eager to cenfure, and refolv'd to blame,

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Finding the Heroe regularly rife,

Great, while he lives, but greater, when he dies,
Sullen approv'd, too obftinate to melt,

And ficken'd with the Pleasures, which they felt.
Not fo the Fair their Paffions fecret kept,
Silent they heard, but as they heard, they wept,
When gloriously the blooming MARCUS dy'd,
And CATO told the Gods, I'm fatisfy'd.
See! how your Lays the British Youth inflame!
They long to shoot, and ripen into Fame.
Applauding Theatres disturb their Reft,
And unborn CAT O's heave in ev'ry Breast.
Their nightly Dreams, their daily Thoughts repeat,
And Pulfes high with fancy'd Glories beat.
So, griev'd to view the Marathonian Spoils,
The young THEMISTOCLES VOW'd equal Toils ;.
Did then his Schemes of future Honours draw
From the long Triumphs which with Tears he faw.
How shall I your unrival'd Worth proclaim,
Left in the fpreading Circle of your Fame!
We saw you the great WILLIAM's Praife rehearse,
And paint Britannia's Joys in Roman Verse.
We heard at diftance foft, enchanting Strains,
From blooming Mountains, and Italian Plains.
VIRGIL began in English Dress to fhine,
His Voice, his Looks, his Grandeur ftill Divine:
From him too foon unfriendly you withdrew,
But brought the tuneful OVID to our View.
Then, the delightful Theme of ev'ry Tongue,
Th'immortal MARL BROUGH was your daring Song.
From Clime to Clime the mighty Victor flew,
From Clime to Clime as swiftly you pursue.
Still with the Heroe's glow'd the Poet's Flame,
Still with his Conquefts you enlarg'd your Fame.
With boundless Raptures here the Mufe cou'd fwell,
And on your ROSAMOND for ever dwell:


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