HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA,
What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee,
Thou fluggish idler, dilatory flave!
Behold the model of confummate beauty,
Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect.
Such was the will of Heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my courfe, fufpicious of my purpose, Rufh'd out and feiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm'd, Breathlefs, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me, till Demetrius fet me free,
So fure the fall of greatness, rais'd on crimes!
So fix'd the juftice of all-confcious Heav'n!
When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,
Mistake shall blaft, or accident destroy;
Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart,
But Heav'n fhall guide it to the guilty heart,
MARRY a Turk! a haughty, tyrant king!
Who thinks us women born to drefs and fing
To please his fancy! fee no other man!
Let him perfuade me to it—if he can:
Befides, he has fifty wives, and who can bear
To have the fiftieth part her paltry share?
'Tis true, the fellow's handfome, ftraight, and tall, But how the devil should he please us all! My fwain is little-true-but, be it known, My pride's to have that little all my own. Men will be ever to their errors blind, Where woman 's not allow'd to speak her mind. I fwear this Eastern pageantry is nonfenfe,
And for one man-one wife 's enough of conscience.
In vain proud man ufurps what's woman's due;
For us alone, they honour's paths purfue:
Infpir'd by us, they glory's heights afcend;
Woman the fource, the object, and the end.
Though wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive,
These are all trifles to what we can give.
For us the statesman labours, hero fights,
Bears toilfome days, and wakes long tedious nights;
And, when bleft peace has filenc'd war's alarms,
Receives his full reward in Beauty's arms,
SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, APRIL 5, 1750,
BEFORE THE MASQUE OF COMUS.
Acted at DRURY-LANE THEATRE, for the Benefit of
MILTON'S Grand-daughter *.
YE patriot crowds, who burn for England's fame,
Ye nymphs, whofe bofoms beat at Milton's name,
Whofe gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes,
Shames the mean penfions of Auguftan times,
Immortal patrons of fucceeding days,
Attend this prelude of perpetual praise;
Let wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage
With clofe malevolence, or publick rage,
Let study, worn with virtue's fruitless lore,
Behold this theatre, and grieve no more.
This night, diftinguifh'd by your fmiles, fhall tell
That never Britain can in vain excel;
The flighted arts futurity fhall truft,
And rifing ages hasten to be just.
At length our mighty bard's victorious lays
Fill the loud voice of univerfal praise;
And baffled spite, with hopeless anguish dumb,
Yields to renown the centuries to come;
With ardent hafte each candidate of fame,
Ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name;
He fees, and pitying fees, vain wealth bestow
Those pageant honours which he scorn'd below;
While crowds aloft the laureat bust behold,
Or trace his form on circulating gold.
Unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay,
And want hung threat'ning o'er her flow decay.
What though the fhine with no Miltonian fire,
No fav'ring Mufe her morning dreams inspire;
Yet fofter claims the melting heart engage,
Her youth laborious, and her blameless age;
Hers the mild merits of domestic life,
The patient fufferer, and the faithful wife.
Thus, grac'd with humble virtue's native charms,
Her grandfire leaves her in Britannia's arms;
Secure with peace, with competence, to dwell,
While tutelary nations guard her cell.
Yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wife, ye brave!
'Tis yours to crown defert-beyond the grave.
THE GOOD-NATUR'D MAN, 1769.
PREST by the load of life, the weary mind
Surveys the gen'ral toil of human kind,
With cool fubmiffion joins the lab'ring train,
And focial forrow lofes half its pain:
|