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A U Τ Η Ο R
R O S A M O N D.
-Ne forte pudori
By Mr. TICKEL L.
HE Opera first Italian masters taught,
Enrich'd with fongs, but innocent of thought.
No charms are wanting to thy artful song,
Landskips how gay the bow'ry grotto yields,
Ten thousand pangs my anxious bosom tear,
Let joy transport fair Rosamonda's shade, And wreaths of myrtle crown the lovely maid. While now perhaps with Dido's ghost she roves, And hears and tells the story of their loves, Alike they mourn, alike they bless 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 artless fark her early flight, And soars, to hail the God of verse and light. Unrivald as thy merit be thy fame, And thy own faurels shade thy envy'd name : Thy name, the boast of all the tuneful choir, Shall tremble on the strings of ev'ry lyre ; While the charm'd reader with thy thought complies; Feels corresponding joys or forrows rise, And views thy Rosamond with Henry's eyes.
W O M E N.
Grideline, wife to Sir Trusty.
Guardian Angels, &c.
ROS A M O N D.
A CT I. SCENE I.
A Prospect of Woodstock-Park, terminating
in tbe Bower.
Enter QUE EN and På Gh.
WHAT place is here !
And soft Elysiums rife :