Young. Churchill. Lloyd. Falconer. Thomson

O come! with opiate poppies crown'd,
Shedding flumbers foft around!

O come! FAT GODDESS, drunk with Lau-
reat's Sack!

See where the fits on the benumb'd Torpedo's
back!

Me, in thy dull Elyfium lapt, O bless
With thy calm Forgetfulness:

And gently lull my fenfes all the while
With placid poems in the finking ftile!
Whether the Herring-Poet fing,
Great Laureat of the Fishes' King,
Or Lycophron prophetic rave his fill,
Wrapt in the darker ftrains of Johnny-;

Or, If He fing, whofe verfe affords

A bevy of the choiceft words,

Who meets his Lady Mufe by mofs-grown cell,
Adorn'd with epithet and tinkling bell:

Thefe, GODDESS, let me ftill forget,
With all the dearth of Modern Wit!
So may't Thou gently o'er my youthful breast,
Spread, with thy welcome hand, OBLIVION's friend-
ly veft.

Which now in foothing murmurs whisp'ring glides,

Wat'ring with genial waves the fragrant foil, Now rolls adown the mountain's fteepy fides, Teaching the vales full beauteously to smile, Dame NATURE's handy-work, not form'd by lab'ring toil.

III.

The Muszs fair, thefe peaceful fhades among, With fkilful fingers fweep the trembling string: ; The air in filence liftens to the fong, And TIME forgets to ply his lazy wings; Pale-vifag'd CARE,with foul unhallow'd feet, Attempts the fummit of the hill to gain, Ne can the hag arrive the blissful feat; Her unavailing strength is spent in vain, CONTENT fits on the top, and mocks her empty pain.

IV.

Oft PHOEBUS felf left his divine abode,
And here enshrouded in a shady bow'r,
Regardless of his ftate, lay'd by the God,
And own'd fweet Mufic's more alluring pow'r.
On either fide was plac'd a peerless wight,
Whofe merit long had fill'd the trump of FAME;
This, FANCY's darling child, was SPINSER

hight,

Who pip'd full pleasing on the banks of Tame; That no lefs fam'd than Hɛ, and MILTON was his

name.

In these cool bow'rs they live fupinely calm;
Now harmless talk, now emulously fing;
While VIRTUE, pouring round her facred balm,
Makes happiness eternal as the spring.
Alternately they fung; now SPENSER 'gan,
Of joufts and tournaments, and champions ftrong i
Now MILTON fung of difobedient man,

And Eden loft: The bards around them throng, Drawn by the wond'rous magic of their princes' fong

VI.

Not far from thefe, Dan CHAUCER, antient wight,

A lofty feat on mount Parnassus held, Who long had been the Mufes' chief delight; His reverend locks were filver'd o'er with eld; Grave was his vifage, and his habit plain ; And while he fung, fair nature he display'd, In verse albeit uncouth, and fimple ftrain; Ne mote he well be feen, fo thick the shade, Which elms and aged oaks had all around him made.

VII.

Next SHAKSPEARE fat, irregularly great, And in his hand a magic rod did hold,

Which vifionary beings did create,

And turn the foulest dross to purest gold?

XVIII.

Sifter, arife! fee how our pow'r decays,
No more our empire Thou and I can boast,
Sith mortal man now gains immortal praise,
Sith man is bleft, and Thou and I are loft:
See in what state Parnaffus' Hill appears;
See PHOEBUS' self two happy bards atween;
See how the God their fong attentive hears;

XXIII.

Aloft in air the rattling chariot flies,
While thunder harshly grates upon its wheels;
Black pointed fpires of smoke around them rife,
The air deprefs'd unusual burthen feels;
Detefted fight! in terrible array,
They fpur their fiery dragons on amain,
Ne mote their anger fuffer cold delay,
Until the wish'd-for region they obtain,

This SPENSER hight, that MILTON, well I And land their dingy car on Caledonian plain.
ween!

Who can behold unmov'd fike heart tormenting

fcene?

XXIV.

Here, eldeft fon of MALICE, long had dwelt
A wretch of all the joys of life forlorn;
His fame o: double falfities was built:
(Ah! worthlefs fon, of worthlefs parent born!)
Under the fhew of femblance fair, he veil'd
The black intentions of his hellish breaft;
And by thefe guileful means he more prevail'd
Than had he open enmity profeft;

The wolf more fafely wounds when in sheep's cloath.
ing dreft,

XXV.

Him then themfelves atween they joyful place,
(Sure fign of woe when fuch are pleas'd, alas!)
Then measure back the air with swifter pace,
Until they reach the foot of Mount Parnaís.
Hither in evil hour the monsters came,
And with their new companion did alight,
Who long had loft all fenfe of virtuous fhame,
Beholding worth with poifonous defpight;
On his fuccefs depends their impious delight.

XXVI.

Long burnt He fore the fummit to obtain,
And spread his venom o'er the blissful feat;
Long burnt He fore, but ftill He burnt in vain ;
Mote none come there, who come with impious
feet.

At length, at unawares, he out doth fpit
That fpite which elfe had to himself been bane;
The venom on the breast of MILTON lit,
And spread benumbing death thro' every vein;
The Bard of life bereft fell fenfeless on the plain,

XXVII.

As at the banquet of Thyeftes old,

The fun is faid t' have shut his radiant eye,
So did he now through grief his beams with-hold,
And darkness to be felt o'erwhelm'd the sky;
Forth iffued from their difmal dark abodes
The birds attendant upon hideous night,
Shriek-owls and ravens, whofe fell croaking
bodes

Approaching death to miserable wight 1

Did never mind of man behold fike dreadful fight?

XXVIII.

APOLLO wails his darling done to die
By foul attempt of ENVY's fatal bane;
The MUSES fprinkle him with dew of Caftaly,
And crown his death with many a living strain;

But peace! the gentle prologue custom sends,
Like drum and ferjeant, to beat up for friends.
At vice and folly, each a lawful game,
Our author flies, but with no partial aim,
He read the manners, open as they lie
In nature's volume to the general eye.
Books too he read, nor blush'd to use their store.
He does but what his betters did before.
Shakspeare has done it, and the Grecian stage
Caught truth of character from Homer's page.

If in his fcenes an honest skill is fhewn,
And borrowing little, much appears his own;
If what a master's happy pencil drew
He brings more forward, in dramatic view;
To your decifion he submits his caufe,
Secure of candour, anxious for applaufe.

But if all rude, his artlefs fcenes deface
The fimple beauties which he meant to grace;
If, an invader upon others' land,
He fpoil and plunder with a robber's hand,
Do juftice on him!-As on fools before,
And give to Blockheads past one Blockhead morę,

PROLOGUE

то THE

When Kings themselves the proper judges fit

O'er the bleft realms of science, arts and wit,
Each eager breaft beats high for glorious fame,

JEALOUS WIFE. And emulation glows with active flame.

SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK.

Thus, with Auguftus rofe imperial Rome,
For arms renown'd abroad, for arts at home.
Thus, when Eliza fill'd Britannia's throne,
What arts, what learning was not then our own?
Then finew'd Genius, ftrong and nervous rofe,
poor In Spenfer's numbers, and in Raleigh's profe;
On Bacon's lips then every science hung,
And Nature fpoke from her own Shakspeare's tongue,
Her patriot fmiles fell, like refreshing dews,
To wake to life each pleasing useful Muse,
While every virtue which the Queen profefs'd,
Beam'd on her fubjects, but to make them bleft.
O glorious times!-O theme of praise divine!
-Be happy, Britain, then-fuch times are thine.
Behold e'en now strong science imps her wing,
And arts revive beneath a Patriot King,
The Mufes too burst forth with double light,
To fhed their luftre in a Monarch's fight.
His cheering fmiles alike to all extend-
Perhaps this spot may boaft a Royal Friend.
And when a Prince, with early judgment grac'd,
Himfelf fhall marshal out the way to taste,

A charming fubject! but a wretched plan.
His skittish wit, o'erleaping the due bound,
Commits flat trefpass upon tragic ground.
Quarrels, upbraidings, Jealoufics, and fpleen,
Grow too familiar in the comic scene.
Tinge but the language with heroic chime,
'Tis Paffion, Pathos, Character, Sublime!
What round big words had fwell'd the pompous fcene,
A king the husband, and the wife a queen!
Then might distraction rend her graceful hair,
See fightless forms, and scream, and gape, and ftare.
Drawcanfir death had rag'd without controul,
Here the drawn dagger, there the poison'd bowl.
What eyes had ftream'd at all the whining woe!
What hands had thunder'd at each Hah and Oh!

Caught with the flame perhaps c'en here may rife
Some powerful genius of uncommon fize,
And, pleas'd with nature, nature's depth explore,
And be what our great Shakspeare was before.

O D E

SPOKEN ON A PUBLIC OCCASION AT WEST

MINSTER SCHOOL.

OR at Apollo's vaunted shrine, Nor to the fabled Sifters Nine,

PROLOGUE TO HECUBA. Offers the youth his ineffectual vow,

And, at three steps, ftride o'er a modern stage;
Each gefture then would boast unusual charms,
From lengthen'd legs, ftuff'd body, fprawling arms!
Your critic eye would then no pigmies fee;
But Bufkins make a giant, even of me.
No features then the Poet's mind would trace,
But one black vizor blot out all the face.

O! glorious times, when actors thus could ftrike,
Expreffive, inexpreffive, all alike!

Lefs change of face than in our punch they faw,
For punch can roll his eyes, and wag his jaw;
With one fet glare they mouth'd the rumbling verfe;
Our Gog and Magog look not half fo fierce?

Yet, though depriv'd of inftruments like these, Nature, perhaps, may find a way to please ; Which, wherefoe'er the glows with genuine flame, In Greece, in Rome, in England, is the fame.

Of raillery then, ye modern wits, beware, Nor damn the Grecian poet for the player. Theirs was the skill, with honeft help of art, To win, by just degree, the yielding heart, What if our Shakspeare claims the magic throne, And in one inftant makes us all his own ; They differ only in one point of view,

For Shakspeare's nature, was their nature too.

Far be their rites !-Such worship fits not now;
When at Eliza's facred name

Each breaft receives the prefent flame :
While eager genius plumes herinfant wings,
And with bold impulse ftrikes the accordant ftrings,
Reflecting on the crouded line

Of mitred fages, bards divine,

Of patriots, active in their country's cause,
Who plan her councils, or direct her laws.

Oh Memory! how thou lov'ft to ftray,
Delighted, o'er the flow'ry way
Pour'd the pure dictates of ingenuous truth!
Of childhood's greener years! when fimple youth

'Tis then the fouls congenial meet,
Infpir'd with friendship's genuine heat,
Ere intereft, frantic zeal, or jealous art,
Have taught the language foreign to the heart.

"Twas here in many an early strain
Dryden first try'd his claffic vein,
Spurr'd his ftrong genius to the diftant goal,
In wild effufions of his manly foul;

When Busby's fkill and judgment fage,
Reprefs'd the poet's frantic rage,
Cropt his luxuriance bold, and blended taught
The flow of numbers with the strength of thought.

Nor, Cowley, be thy Mufe forgot! which strays In wits ambiguous flowery maze, With many a pointed turn and studied art: Though affectation blot thy rhyme, Thy mind was lofty and fublime, And manly honour dignified thy heart : Though fond of wit, yet firm to virtue's plan, The Poet's trifles, ne'er difgrac'd the Man.

Well might thy morals sweet engage
Th' attention of the Mitred Sage,
Smit with the plain fimplicity of truth,
For not ambition's giddy ftrife,
The gilded toys of public life,
Which Inare the gay unstable youth,

Cou'd lure Thee from the faber charms,
Which lapt thee in retirement's arms,
Whence Thou, untainted with the pride of ftate,
Coud'it fmile with pity on the bustling Great,

Such were Eliza's fons. Her foft'ring care
Here bade free genius tune his grateful fong;
Which elfe had wafted in the defart air,
Or droop'd unnotic'd 'mid the vulgar throng.
-Ne'er may her youth degenerate fhame
The glories of Eliza's name!

But with the poet's frenzy bold,
Such as infpir'd her bards of old,

Pluck the green laurel from the hand of Fame!

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