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Spoken by Mr. HULL.
HIS night presents a play which public rage,
Or right, or wrong, once hooted from the

ftaget.
From zeal or malice, now no more we dread,
For English vengeance wars not with the dead.
A generous 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 hostilities invade
Th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade.
Let one great payment every claim appease,
And him, who cannot hurt, allow to please;
To please by scenes unconscious of offence,
By harmless merriment, or useful sense.
Where aught of bright, or fair the piece displays,
Approve it only 'tis to late too praise.
If want of skill, or want of care appear,
Forbear to hiss the poet cannot hear.
By all like him must praise and blame be found,
At best a fleeting gleam, or empty found.

* Performed at Covent-Garden theatre in 1777, for the benefit of Mrs. Kelly, widow of Hugh Kelly, Esq. (the author of the play), and her children.

of Upon the first representation of this play, 1770, a party allembled to damn it, and succeeded,

Yet

Yet then shall calin reflection bless the night,
When liberal pity dignified delight;
When Pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame,
And mirth was bounty with an humbler name,

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S
TERN Winter now, by Spring repress’d,

Forbears the long.continued strife;
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,

Arthritick * tyranny configns; Whom smiling nature courts in vain,

Tho' rapture fings and beauty shines.
Yet tho'my limbs disease invades,

Her wings Imagination tries,
And bears me to the peaceful shades,

Where's humble turrets rise.
Here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight,

Nor from the pleafing groves depart, Where first great nature charmed my fight, Where wisdom first inform'd my heart.

.

* The author being ill of the gout.

K4

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Here let me thro' the vales pursue

A guide a father--and a friend, Once more great nature's works renew,

Once more on wisdom's voice attend. From false caresses, causeless strife,

Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd; Here let me learn the use of life,

When belt enjoy'd—when most improv'd.
Teach me, thou venerable bower,

Cool meditation's quiet seat,
The generous scorn 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 crimies

I can't prevent, and will not share. But left I fall by subtler foes,

Bright Wisdom, teach me Curio's art, The swelling passions to compose,

And quell the rebels of the heart.

M I D S U M M ER,

AN O D E.

O PHOEBUS! down the western sky,

Far hence diffuse thy burning ray, Thy light to distant worlds supply,

And wake them to the cares of day.

I

Come,

Come, gentle Eve, the friend of care,

Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night! Refresh me with a cooling breeze,

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 showers its fragrant foliage sheds.
Improve the peaceful hour with wine,

Let mufick die along the grove ; Around the bowl let myrtles twine,

And every strain be tun'd to love. Come, Stella, queen of all my heart !

Come, born to fill its vast desires ! Thy looks perpetual joys impart,

Thy voice perpetual love inspires. Whilst all my with and thine complete,

By turns we languish and we burn, Let fighing gales our sighs repeat,

Our murmurs-murmuring brooks return. Let me when nature calls to rest,

And blushing skies the morn foretell, Sink on the down of Stella's breast,

And bid the waking world farewell.

A U U T U

Τ Ο Μ Ν,

AN O D E.
LAS! with swift and filent pace,

Impatient time rolls on the year;
The seasons change, and nature's face

Now sweetly smiles, now frowns fevere.

A А

'Twas

1

SCEN E XIII.

HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA.

MUSTAPHA TO MUR Z A.
What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee,
Thou sluggish idler, dilatory flave !
Behold the model of consummate beauty,
Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect !

MURZA.
Such was the will of Heav'n—A band of Greeks
That mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose,
Rufh'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm’d,
Breathless, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach
Detain'd me tili Demetrius set me free.

MUST A PH A.

So fure the fall of greatness rais’d on crimes !
So fix'd the justice of all-conscious Heav'n!

When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,
Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy ;
Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart,
But Heav'n fhall guide it to the guilty heart.

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