i

САТО.

TRAGEDY.

AS IT IS ACTED

AT THE

THEATRE-ROYAL, IN DRURY-LANE,

BY

HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.

Ecce spectaculum dignum, ad quod respiciat, intentus operi suo, Deus! Ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum mala fortuna compositus! Non video, inquam, quid habeat in terris Jupiter pulchrius, si convertere animum velit, quam ut spectet Catonem, jam partibus non semel fractis, nihilominus inter ruinas publicas erectum.

SEN. DE DIVIN. PROV.

VERSES

TO THE

AUTHOR

OF THE

TRAGEDY OF CATO.

WHILE you the fierce divided Britons awe,
And Cato with an equal virtue draw;
While envy is itself in wonder lost,

And factions strive who shall applaud you most;
Forgive the fond ambition of a friend,

Who hopes himself, not you, to recommend,
And join th' applause which all the learn'd bestow,
On one, to whom a perfect work they owe.
To my light scenes I once inscrib'd your name;
And impotently strove to borrow fame:
Soon will that die, which adds thy name to mine;
Let me, then live, join'd to a work of thine.

RICHARD STEELE.

THOUGH Cato shines in Virgil's epic song,
Prescribing laws among th' Elysian throng;
Though Lucan's verse, exalted by his name,
O'er gods themselves has rais'd the hero's fame;
The Roman stage did ne'er his image see,
Drawn at full length; a task reserv'd for thee.
By thee we view the finish'd figure rise,
And awful march before our ravish'd eyes;

* Tender Husband, dedicated to Mr. Addison.

We hear his voice, asserting virtue's cause;
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 inspir'd;
'Twas there, to some indulgent grove retir'd,
Rome's ancient fortunes rolling in thy mind,
Thy happy muse this manly work design'd:
Or in a dream thou saw'st Rome's genius stand,
And, leading Cato in his sacred hand,
Point out th' immortal subject of thy lays,
And ask this labour to record his praise.

'Tis done the hero lives and charms our age! While nobler morals grace the British stage. Great Shakespear's ghost, the solemn strain to hear, (Methinks I see the laurel'd shade appear!) Will hover o'er the scene, and wond'ring view His fav'rite Brutus rival'd thus by you. Such Roman greatness in each action shines, Such Roman eloquence adorns your lines, That sure the Sybils' books this year foretold, And in some mystic leaf was seen enroll'd, 'Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Afric's shore, Nor in her sands thy Cato's tomb explore! When thrice six hundred times the circling sun His annual race shall through the zodiac run, An isle remote his monument shall rear, And every generous Briton pay a tear.'

J. HUGHES.

WHAT do we see! is Cato then become
A greater name in Britain than in Rome?
Does mankind now admire his virtues more,
Though Lucan, Horace, Virgil wrote before?
How will posterity this truth explain?
"Cato begins to live in Anna's reign:"