Poetical ESSAYS in MARCH, 1753.

Happy the clime, distinguish'd be the [ftage; age, When genius hoots fpontaneous for the Not too luxuriant, nor too trimly neat, But, in loose wildnefs, negligently great. [care; O may the gen'rous plants, fo wond'rous Ne'er want the tender hand of foft'ring But, like Apollo's fav'rite tree, be seen, For ever flourishing, for ever green.

rare,

M'NAMARA MORGAN.

PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE to the new
Tragedy of the Earl of ESSEX, by
Mr. HENRY JONES, lately acted with
Applaufe at the Theatre-Royal in Co-
vent-Garden. (See p. 121.)

PROLOGUE. Spoken by Mr. Barry.
UR defp'rate bard a bold excurfion tries,
Tho' danger damp'd bis wing, be dar'd
[Springs
to rife:
From hope, bigb rais'd, all glorious actions
'Tis bence that heroes conquer, poets fing•
Even be may feel the foul-exalting fire,
Fame prompts the bumbleft bofom to afpire.

Without a guide this rafb attempt be made, Without a clue from art, or learning's aid. He takes a theme where tend'reft paffions glow, A theme, your grandfires felt wub pleafing

Essex' fad tale be strives to cloath anew,
And hopes to place it in a fronger view.

Poets, like painters, may, by equal law,
The labour'd piece from different mafters draw:
Perhaps improve the plan, add fire and grace,
And frike tb impaffion'd foul through all the
face.

How far our author has fecur'd a claim
To this exalted palm, this wish'd-for fame,
Your generous fentiments will foon declare:
Humanity is ever prone to spare.

"Tavere bafeness then your candour to difiruft;
A BRITISH audience will, at leaft, be juft.
A flattering truth be fearful must confefs,
His fanguine friends made promise of fuccefs;
But that, be fears, their ardent wishes
surought,

Since partial favour feldom fees a fault.
Then bear, like patient friends, this first elay,
His next fhall thank you in a nobler way.
EPILOGUE. By an unknown Hand.
Spoken by Mrs. CIBBER.

TEWS! News! good folks, rare news,

N and you shall know it

I've got intelligence about our poet!
Who do you think be is ?--You'll never guess;
An IRISH BRICKLAYER, neither more or
lejs.

And now the fecret's out, you cannot wonder,
That in commencing bard be made a blunder.
Has be not left the better for the worse,
Za quitting jolid brick for empty verje

March, 1753.

137

Can he believe th' example of Old Ben,
Who chang'd (like bim) the trotuel for the
pen,

Will in his favour move your critick bowels ?
You rather wish, moft poets pens were trowels.
Our man is boneft, fenfible, and plain,
Nor bas the poet made kim pert, or wain:
No beau, no courtier, nor conceited youth;
But then fo rude, he always fpeaks the
truth:

I told him he must flatter, learn addrefs,
And gain the heart of fome rich patronefs:
'Tis fhe, faid I, your labours will reward,
If you but join the bricklay'r with the bard;
As thus-Should she be old and worse for

quear,

:

You must nerv-cafe ber, front her and repair;
If crack'd in fame, as fearce to bear a touch,
You cannot ufe your trowel then too much;
In short, whate er her merals, age or flation,
Plaister and white-wath in your dedication.
Thus I advis'd-but be detrfis the plan a
What can be done with fuch a fimple man ?
A poet's nothing worth and nought availing,
Unless be'll furnish, where there is a failing.
Authors in thefe good times are made and us`d,
To grant thefe favours nature bas refus’d.
If he won't fib, what bounty can be crave ?
We pay for what we want, nut what we
barve.-

Nay tho' of every bleffing we kave flore,
Our fex will always wifh-a little more.--
If be'll not bend his heart to this bis duty,
And fell (to who will buy) wit, beneur,
beauty;

The bricklay'r fill for him the proper trade is,
Too rough to deal with gentlemen and ladies-
In fhort - they'll all avoid him and neglect

bim,

Unless that you his patrons will proteƐl bim.
PROLOGUE and EPILOGUE to the new

Tragedy of the BROTHERS, now
acting with Applaufe at the Theatre-
Royal in Drury-Lane. (See p. 99.)
PROLOGUE. Written by Mr. DoD-
SLEY, and spoken by Mr. HAVARD.
HE tragick mufe, revolving many
page
Of time's long records drawn from every age,
Forms not ber plans on low or trivial deeds,
But marks the friking !-When fome beroe
bleeds

THE

a

To fave his country, then her powers infpire,
And fouls congenial catch the patriot fire.-
When bold oppreffion grinds a fuffering land;
When the keen dagger gleams in murder's
band;

When black confpiracy infects the throng;
Or fell revenge fits brooding o'er his wrong:
Then walks fhe forth in terror; at her frown
Guilt farinks appell'd, the jeated on
thrane.
S

a

But

138

Poetical ESSAYS in MARCH, 1753.

But the rack'd foul when dark fufpicions rend,
When brothers bate, and jons with fires con-
tend;

When clashing interofls war eternal avage;
And love, the tendereft paffion, turns to rage ;
Then grief on every vifage flands impreft,
And pity throbs in every feeling breast:
Hope, fear, and indignation rife by turns,
And the frong scene with various paffion
[flow;

burns.

Such is our tale.-Nor blush if tears should
They're virtue's tribute paid to human woe.
Such drops new lufire to bright eyes impart }
The filent witnefs of a tender beart:
Such drops adorn the nobleft hero's cheek,
And paint his worth, in ftrokes that more than
Speak:

Not be subo cannot weep, but be awho can,
Shews the great foul, and proves bimself a

man.

Yet do not idly grieve at others pain,
Nor let the tears of nature fall in vain :
Watch the clife crimes from whence their ills
bave grown,
[oan.
And from their frailties learn to mend your
An Hiftorical EPILOGUE. By the
AUTHOR.

A

N EPILOGUE, thro' cuftem, is your
right,

But ne'er perhaps was needful till this night.
To night the virtuous falls, the guilty fis,
Guilt's dreadful close our narrow scene denies.
In kiflery's authentick record read
What ample vengeance gluts Demetrius'
fhade:
[told,
Vengeance fo great, that when his tale is
With pity jome, even Perfeus may behold.
Perfeus furviv'd, indeed, and fill'd the
throne,

But ceafclefs cares in conqueft made him groan.
Nor reign'd be long; from Rome fwift thun-
der flew,
(threw :
And beadlong from bis throne the tyrant
Throzon beadlong down, by Rome in triumph

led,

His pale cheek refled on bis frameful chains
No friend to mours, no flatterer to feign.
No fuit retards, no comfort fooths bis doom,

And not one tear bedews a monarch's tomb.
Nor ends it thus-dire vengeance to compleat,
His ancient empire falling, shares his fate.
His throne forget! His weeping country
chain'd!

And nations afk-Where Alexander reign’d.
As publick woes a prince's crimes pursue,
So, publick bleflings are bis virtue's due.
Shout, Britons, bout !-Aufpicious fortune
blefs!

And cry, long live-OUR title to fuccefs!
A bumorous EPISTLE of a facetious Young
Lady be-rhymed.

To Mrs. E.

M

Y knowledge of your temper, and
That you will be at my command,
Induces me, dear Ma'm, to crave
For once you'd be my humble slave :
To Mr. M-ton then apply,
To you he nothing-can deny;
Beg him to pardon my offence,
Th' effect of female innocence.
As I his friendship highly prize,
I'll on my knees, and never rife
Until forgiveness I obtain,

And be efteem'd his friend again.
No other man in all the world,
Though I were kick'd, and tofs'd, or
hurl'd

From hence to the antipodes,
Shou'd ever bring me on my knees
To ask forgiveness of thofe crimes,
I might commit a thousand times :
But this to him I'll freely do,
Whene'er he orders it by you.

Madam, I from your houfe to-day,
With great regret, have ftaid away,
'Cause your preceptor I'll not fee
Until he's reconcil'd to me,
Which by your means he foon may be :
This is the very great defire

Of pretty, fmiling, Nancy Spier.

P. S. This letter, Ma'm, he need not fee
But if he fhou'd, tell him from me ;
1 hope thofe faults he fhail detect,
He'll very candidly correct.

C. MORTON,
HOLT SCHOOL in NORFOLK, Thursday,
February 26, 1753.

J. H. to the Head Scholar J. B.
Officium noftrum erga Deuм.
Our duty towards GoD.

So fad the feene: What then must Pericus
To Jee Jove's rate attend the victor's wheel :
To fee the faves of his worst fee encrease,
From fuch a jource! -- An emperor's embrace. N

He ficken'd foon to death, and, what is worse,
He well deferv'd, and felt the coward's

curle:

Untity'd, feorn'd, infulted his laf bour,

Far, far from bome, and in a vajjal's porver.

UNC tu, mi Burrelle, audi! te namq; docebo, [lendus. Et paucis, quâ animus tibi fit ratione coImprimis, unum effe DEUM meditare fre[omnipotentem,

quenter,

Immenfum, æternum, fummum, optimum,

Poetical Essays in MARCH, 1753.

Qui calum, et toto fulgentia fidera cœlo,
Cæteraq, aut oculis apta, aut non apta vi-
deri,

Ex nibile, nutu folo, fine tempore fecit ;
Factaq; perpetuo ftudio fervatq; regitq;
Hunc venerare, time, cole, lauda, at fæpe
precare,
[occidit, et quum
Note dieq; oritur quum fol, quumq;
Æquali fpatio metâ disjunctus utrâq; eft:
Nam prima eft virtus, prima ett fapientia,
Regem
[agnofcere, amare,
Calicolum PATREM, per CHRISTUM,
Sinceroq; animo, laudare, timere, precari.
Hoc fine virtutes alias nihil effe putato:
Hoc verò folum penè eft fatis. Ergo teneto
Corde ac mente DEUм fæpe, et fæpe ore

vocato:

That lives or moves on earth's felf-poifed ball;
And all from nothing: Who, with equal eafe,
Still rules and governs thofe as well as thefe.
Him fear, him rev'rence, worthip and
obey,
[pray,
To him for grace and faib devoutly
Both morn and evening, and at midst
of day:

Virtue and wisdom will in this appear,
If Gon, through CHRIST, you call on,
and revere,

Praife, thank, and honour, and fin-
cerely fear.

Without this, reckon other virtues small;
But, pity once got, you've almost all.

Therefore let Gop be always in your mind,
To him let pray'r, and praife, with
thanks be join'd.

This is the path to beav'n, for none can' gain

Virtue without it, nor from vice abftain, Unless they help from GoD by prayer obtain.

N. B. See the advertisement of THE GRAMMARIAN'S GEOGRAPHY and ASTRONOMY, Ce. on the Ulus cover of Mis Magazine.

139

COLIN and PHOEBE. A NEW SONG.

I.

WHE bower,

HERE the jeffamin sweetens the

And cowflips adorn the gay green,
And the rofes refresh'd by the shower
Contribute to brighten the fcene,
In a cottage retirement there lives
Young Colin and Phoebe the fair,
The bleffings each other receives,
In mutual enjoyment they hare.
And the lads and the laffes that dwell on
the plain
[fwain.
Sing in praife of fair Phoebe, and Colin her

2.

The fweets of contentment fupply

The fplendor and grandeur of pride; No wants can the shepherd annoy,

While bleft with his beautiful bride. He wishes no greater delight

Than to tend on the lambkins by day, And return to his Phoebe at night,

His innocent toil to repay.

And the lads tell the laffes, in hopes to
prevail,
[the vale.
They're as conftant as Colin who lives in

4.

Ye fwains who're accuftom'd to rove,
And each innocent fair one betray;
No longer be faithlefs in 1 ve

The dictates of honour obey;
Ye nymphs who with beauty are bleft,
With virtue improve ev'ry grace,
For the charms of the mind, when poffeft,
Will dignify thofe of the face.

And ye lads and ye laffes, whom Hymen
has join'd,

Like Colin be conftant, like Phoebe be
kind.
G. ROLLOS.

To the Author of the EARL of Essex.
O rouze the indolent! to wake the
brave!

To rescue glory from the dreary grave!
To fhew the ttrange viciffitudes of tate;
And trace the actions of the good and great:
To tune the frings that harmonize the
whole,
[foul:

And paint the paffions of the human
To touch the mind with fympathetick woe;
And bid the park of emulation glow:
To

S 2

140

Poetical ESSAYS in MARCH, 1753.

To ftamp bright virtue's image on the heart;

For this the gods ordain'd the tragick
[art!
For thefe great ends, by blooming fancy
fir'd,

By fcience prompted, and by heav'n inspir'd,
To art and nature's topmoft height to foar,
Arofe the bards, in ages now no more!
Then merit flourish'd, poets then were bold,
Protected by the Boyles and Chesterfields
of old.'

But now, alas! in our degenerate time,
When moft deem poetry the knack of
rhyme;

When fenfe and learning meet with small
refpc&t,
[lect:

And what their fires ador'd their fons neg.
When party int'refts govern works of wit;
And courts and theatres alike submit ;
Vent'rous is he who thinks to please the
age,
- [ftage;

And builds his hope on the precarious
Who dares the hatred merit's fure to gain,
The din of fools, and envy of the vain.
This thou haft done! the palm admits thy
claim!

On Effex's, establish'd stands thy fame.
Hail matchless bard!-enraptur'd Jones,
we fee

The hero loft by Banks, retriev'd by thee!
With knowledge fraught, imbib'd from
Greece and Rome,
Profoundly vers'd in each recorded tome;
In ev'ry ancient, ev'ry modern read,
With loads of lumber treafur'd in his head;
The pedant launces in purfuit of fame,
And thinks the fcholiaft and the bard the
fame;

But foon his dream-like flatt'ring vision
flies,

His audience cenfure, and the wits defpife;
Hence oft' we find in fome o'er-labour'd
tale

The fcholar pleafe us, but the poet fail.
True genius only builds an author's
name;
This lifts him to the pinacle of fame.
The enliv'ning warmth, the all creative
glow,

Learning may aid, but nature must bestow;
This fires the foul, th' ideas to refine,
And finks the man in fomething more
divine;

This fill irradiates, tho' untaught the mind,
Directs the fenfe, and paints the thought
defign'd.
[beams

Thus while refplendent Phoebus darts his
O'er verdant meadows, groves and lucid
itreams,
The rural profpect tempts the admiring
[eyes,
And, veid of art, a thoufand beauties rife.
Stanhope! thou patron of th' inftruc-
tive train !
{again;

Thro' whofe indulgence Effex

lives

How doft thou vary from the pompous [not proud;

croud!

Tho' wife, yet modeft; and tho' great,
Thee, heav'n created with all virtues
bright,
[polite;

With fenfe well polish'd, and with wit
Taught thee for Britain to direct thy aim,
And with the poet's, fan the patriot's
flame;

To bid each science, ev'ry art increase,
The blissful fruits of liberty and peace.
Av'rice too oft' o'er wealth afferts its
force,
[courfe
Subjects its pow'r, and bars its deftin'd
Defpis'd by thee! thy gen'rous boíom
knows

;

Th' effential good which affluence bestows:
Did e'er intrinfic worth its fate deplore?
Thy heart was touch'd, and merit droop'd
[choice

no more.

Be others niggards; thine's a happier
Thy godlike deeds confirm the patriot's
voice.

What's all the gaudy pageantry of state?
Can tinfel grandeur form a mortal great?
No, tho' th' external glare attracts our
Oft' meanefs lurks beneath the fair dif-
[guife.
Oh, Chefterfield! how bright thy virtue's
ray!
[decay:

eyes,

That! that! fhall fhine, when titles fhall But stop, fond mufe! the bard 'tis thine to fing;

The patron foars above thy lowly wing.

To the Rev. Dr. YOUNG, en bis excellent
Tragedy, called The Brothers.

ONG honour'd bard! great Neftor

I of the stage!

[fire, Retaining till thy genius, ftrength, and By time corrected, and improv'd by age: This last great work our children shall

admire :

This, this compleats thy pyramid of fame,
And with immortal bards enrols thy lait-

ing name,

Hearing Mifs DAVIES (nine Years of Age) praclifing on the Harpsichord, and GermanFlute, against ber Benefit.

THE

HE Roman fair (her father fix'd in chains) [fuftains: From her own breaft his wafting frame The fon of Croefus, trembling for his fire, Burfts into fpeech, and faves him from

the fire.

aid;

With equal piety this infant maid, Calls forth her genius, in a parent's When rapt'rous founds the lift'ning fenfe [delight, As flow'rs. that spring forth early, charm the fight.

* A fickly mother, Ge.

Poetical ESSAYS in MARCH, 1753.

O wondrous talent, in a child fo young; A theme may claim fome kindred feraph's tongue!

An EPILOGUE defigned by Mr. Foote, for the Tragedy of the Earl of Essex.