Diftreft alike the statesman and the wit,
When one a Borough courts, and one the Pit.
The bufy candidates for power and fame
Have hopes, and fears, and wishes, juft the fame;
Difabled both to combat or to fly,
Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply.
Uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage,
As mongrels bay the lion in a cage.
Th' offended burgefs hoards his angry tale,
For that bleft year when all that vote may rail;
Their schemes of fpite the poet's foes difmifs,
Till that glad night when all that hate may hifs.
"This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," Says fwelling Crifpin, "begg'd a cobler's vote." "This night our wit," the pert apprentice cries, "Lies at my feet; I hifs him, and he dies."
The great, 'tis true, can charm th' electing tribe;
The bard may fupplicate, but cannot bribe.
Yet, judg'd by those whofe voices ne'er were fold,
He feels no want of ill-perfuading gold;
But, confident of praise, if praise be due,
Trufts without fear to merit and to you.
THIS night presents a play with public rage,
Or right, or wrong, once hooted from the stage+.
From zeal or malice, now no more we dread,
For English vengeance wars not with the dead.
A gen'rous foe regards with pitying eye
The man whom fate has laid where all must lie.
To wit reviving from its author's duft,
Be kind, ye judges, or at least be just.
For no renew'd hoftilities invade
Th' oblivious grave's inviolable fhade.
Let one great payment ev'ry claim appease,
And him, who cannot hurt, allow to please;
To please by scenes unconfcious of offence,
By harmless merriment, or ufeful fenfe.
Where aught of bright or fair the piece difplays,
Approve it only-'tis too late to praise.
If want of fkill or want of care appear,
Forbear to hifs-the poet cannot hear.
By all like him muft praife and blame be found,
At beft a fleeting gleam, or empty found.
* Performed at Covent-Garden theatre in 1777, for the benefit of Mrs. Kelly, widow of Hugh Kelly, Efq. (he author of the play), and her children.
+ Upon the first reprefentation of this play, 1770, a party affembled to damn it, and fucceeded.
Yet then shall calm reflection blefs the night,
When liberal pity dignify'd delight;
When Pleasure fir'd her torch at Virtue's flame,
And Mirth was Bounty with an humbler name.
STERN Winter now, by Spring repress'd,
Forbears the long-continued ftrife;
And Nature on her naked breast
Delights to catch the gales of life.
Now o'er the rural kingdom roves
Soft pleasure with the laughing train,
Love warbles in the vocal groves,
And vegetation plants the plain.
Unhappy! whom to beds of pain,
Arthritic tyranny configns;
Whom smiling nature courts in vain,
Though rapture fings and beauty fhines.
Yet though my limbs disease invades,
Her wings Imagination tries,
And bears me to the peaceful fhades,
Where's humble turrets rife.
Here ftop, my foul, thy rapid flight,
Nor from the pleafing groves depart,
Where firft great nature charm'd my fight,
Where wisdom firft inform'd my heart.
The author being ill of the gout.
Here let me through the vales pursue
A guide-
-a father and a friend,
Once more great nature's works renew,
Once more on wifdom's voice attend.
From falfe careffès, caufelefs ftrife,
Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd;
Here let me learn the use of life,
When beft enjoy'd when moft improv'd. Teach me, thou venerable bower,
Cool meditation's quiet feat,
The gen'rous fcorn of venal power,
The filent grandeur of retreat.
When pride by guilt to greatness climbs,
Or raging factions rush to war,
Here let me learn to fhun the crimes
I can't prevent, and will not share.
But left I fall by fubtler foes,
Bright Wisdom, teach me Curio's art,
The fwelling paffions to compose,
And quell the rebels of the heart.
O PHOEBUS! down the western fky,
Far hence diffufe thy burning ray,
Thy light to diftant worlds fupply,
And wake them to the cares of day.
Come, gentle Eve, the friend of care,
Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night!
Refresh me with a cooling air,
And cheer me with a lambent light.
Lay me, where o'er the verdant ground
Her living carpet Nature spreads;
Where the green bower, with roses crown'd,
In fhowers its fragrant foliage fheds;
Improve the peaceful hour with wine,
Let mufick die along the grove;
Around the bowl let myrtles twine,
And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love.
Come, Stella, queen of all my heart!
Come, born to fill its vaft defires!
Thy looks perpetual joys impart,
Thy voice perpetual love infpires.
Whilft all my wifh and thine complete,
By turns we languish and we burn,
Let fighing gales our fighs repeat,
Our murmurs murmuring brooks return.
Let me when nature calls to reft,
And blushing fkies the morn foretell,.
Sink on the down of Stella's breast,
And bid the waking world farewell.
ALAS!
! with fwift and filent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The feafons change, and nature's face
Now fweetly fmiles, now frowns severe.
|