здо σ σ With other looks, yet scarce inferior grace, There, drawing nonsense from his haggard jaws, Still may you live, immortal Actors, crown'd, Still may your praise from pole to pole resound, For still you live-in dust the vulgar lie, But never must theatric heroes die ; Secure of fame, the stroke of fate they brave, As if, by acting Death, they learn'd to mock the grave. Whilst Shakspere's, Dryden's, Rowe's, and Otway's name, Are sung, and florish in the book of fame ; Here would I settle, here my fancy raise, And ransack Waller to complete their praise: Powell forbids; and, with a haughty tone 410 σσ 420 Frowning, demands to have his merits known. With artful rattling wheeze, he draws his breath, σ- He foams, he stares, he storms a madding note, And all the Fury thunders in his throat. 436 A godlike air, quick eye, and accent smooth, With all the manly graces, shine in Booth. Bless'd with an aweful port and lordly mien, The pleas'd spectator dreads a king in Keene. Not so in airy Wilks; with cheerful grace, The careless rake sits sparkling in his face.] Others there are, whose voice and gesture claim In pompous verse a never-dying fame : σ . Others there are-but how should we describe The various beauties of the distant tribe? 440 We hop'd, alas! we hop'd a nearer view, And farther, farther still our wishes flew ; Yet tax not us, Tragedians; tax not those Who never can be real merit's foes; We grudge you neither refuge nor applause, 450 'Tis your own Santłow banishes you hence; Should Oldfield then, the bright-eyed Oldfield join, Her complicated charms, her form divine; Should she, like Hector's widow, as of late, fantomach Mourn her Astyanax's double fate; All, all would love her like Achilles's son,* All would like him be taken, and undone. 460 'Tis said young Ammon, when return'd from war, Leap'd from his throne, and kiss'd the servile boy. 470 And yet, with all their beauties, all their care, Strange force of whimsy! that the fair should prize Ev'n to himself of old an eunuch seem'd Worse than a beast, though now so much esteem'd; How odd the fancy, how absurd the sight! For loftier lays, and nobler chiefs than these, 500 Ilus's niggard son, to raise his Troy, The Gods and great Alcides did employ ; That done, ungrateful grew, nor would defray His hero and the hireling powers their pay; But our more pious Princess, who no less From Heaven and Marlborough has deriv❜d success, By giving Blenheim and these piles, has given Their just rewards to Hercules and Heaven. |