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TO THE

AUTHOR

O F

ROSAMON D.

-Ne forte pudori

Sit tibi mufa lyræ folers, et cantor Apollo.

By Mr. TICKELL.

HE Opera firft Italian mafters taught, Enrich'd with fongs, but innocent of thought. Britannia's learned theatre difdains

Τ

Melodious trifles, and enervate strains ;
And blushes on her injur'd stage to fee
Nonfenfe well-tun'd, and fweet ftupidity.

No charms are wanting to thy artful fong,
Soft as Corelli, but as Virgil ftrong.

From words fo fweet new grace the note; receive,
And mufic borrows helps, fhe us❜d to give.

B 2

Thy

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Thy stile hath match'd what ancient Romans knew,
Thy flowing numbers far excel the new ;
Their cadence in fuch easy found convey'd,

;

That height of thought may seem fuperfluous aid
Yet in fuch charms the noble thoughts abound,
That needless seem the sweets of easy sound.

Landskips how gay the bow'ry grotto yields,
Which thought creates, and lavish fancy builds!
What art can trace the vifionary scenes,
The flow'ry groves, and everlasting greens,
The babbling founds that mimic echo plays,
The fairy fhade, and its eternal maze,
Nature and art in all their charms combin'd,
And all Elyfium to one view confin'd!
No farther could imaginaiton roam,

Till Vanbrugh fram'd, and Marlbro' rais'd the dome.
Ten thousand pangs my anxious bosom tear,
When drown'd in tears I fee th' imploring fair :
When bards lefs foft the moving words supply,
A feeming justice dooms the nymph to die :
But here fhe begs, nor can fhe beg in vain,
(In dirges thus expiring fwans complain)
Each verfe fo fwells, expreffive of her woes,
And ev'ry tear in lines fo mournful flows;
We, fpite of fame, her fate revers'd believe,
O'erlook her crimes, and think she ought to live.

Let

Let joy transport fair Rosamonda's fhade, And wreaths of myrtle crown the lovely maid. While now perhaps with Dido's ghost she roves, And hears and tells the ftory of their loves, Alike they mourn, alike they blefs their fate, Since love, which made 'em wretched, makes 'em great, Nor longer that relentless doom bemoan, Which gain'd a Virgil, and an Addison. Accept, great monarch of the British lays, The tribute fong an humble subject pays. So tries the artlefs lark her early flight, And foars, to hail the God of verfe and light. Unrival'd as thy merit be thy fame,

And thy own laurels shade thy envy'd name :
Thy name, the boast of all the tuneful choir,
Shall tremble on the ftrings of ev'ry lyre;
While the charm'd reader with thy thought complies;
Feels correfponding joys or forrows rife,

And views thy Rofamond with Henry's eyes.

Dramatis

Dramatis Personæ.

M E N.

King Henry.
Sir Trusty, keeper of the bower.

Page.
Messenger.

W O M E N.

Queen Elinor.

Rofamond

Grideline, wife to Sir Trusty.

Guardian Angels, &c.

SCENE Woodstock-Park.

ROSA

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A Profpect of Woodstock-Park, terminating in the Bower.

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