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228 Then shall they triumph, and the British ftage When gloriously the blooming Marcus dy'd, Improve her manners, and retine her age,

And Cato told the gods. I'm satisfy'd. More noble characters expose to view,

See ! how your lays the British youth inflime And draw her finish'd heroines from you.

They long to shoot and ripen into fame; Nor you the kind indulgence will refuse,

Applauding theatres disturb their reft, Skill'd in the labours of the deathless muse : And unborn Cato's heave in every breast; The deathless muse witla undiminish'd rays, Their nightly dreams, their daily thoughts repeat, Through distant times the lovely dame conveya; And pulses high with fancied glories beat, To Gloriana Waller's harp was (trung;

So, griev'd to view the Marathonian spoils, The queen still shines, because the poet sung. The young Themistocles vow'd equal tvils; Ev'n all chofe graces, in your frame combin'd, Did then his schemes of future honours draw The common fate of mortal charms may find From the long triumphs which with tears he (Content our short-liv'd praises to engage,

saw. The joy and wonder of a single age),

How shall I your unrival'd worth proclaim, Unless some poet, in a lasting song,

Loft in the spreading circle of your fame! To late posterity their fame prolong,

We saw you the great William's praise rehearse,
Instruct our sons che radiane form co prize, And paint Britannia's juys in Roman verfe.
And see your beauty with their fathers' eyes.

We heart at distance loft enchacting strains,
From blooming mountains, and Italian plains,
Virgil began in English dress to shine,
His voice, his looks, his grandeur, si!l divine :

Frcin him too foon unfriendly you withdrew,

But brought the tuneful Ouid tu nur view.
Then the delightful theme of every tongue,

Th’immortal Marlborough, was your darling AUTHOR OF THE TRAGEDY OF CATO.


From clime to clime the mighty victor flew, While you the fierce Jivided Britons awe,

From clime to clime as swiftly you pursue. And Caro with an equal virtue draw;

Still wi:h the hero's glow'd the poet's flame, While covy is itself in wonder lost,

Still with his conquests you enlarg'd your fame. And factions frive who shall applaud you most; With houndless raptures here the mufe could (well, l'orgive the fond ambition of a friend,

And on your Rosamond for ever dwell : Who hopes himselt, not you, to recommend ; There opening sweets and every fragrant flower And joins th' applause which all the learn'd be- Luxuriant smile, a never-fading bower! Itow

Next, human fullies kindly to cxpofe, On one, to whom a perfect work they owe. You change from numbers, but not fink in prose : To my * light scenes I once inscrib'd your name,

Whether in visionary scenes you play, And impcently strove to borrow fame;

Refine our taites, or laugh our crimes away, Soon will that die, which adds thy name to minc; | Now, by the buskin'd muse you shine copfest, Let me, then, live, joiu'd to a work of thine. The patriot kindles in the poet's breast,

Such energy of sense might pleasure raise, RICHARD STEELE, Though unembellish' with the charms of phrase :

Such charms of phrase would with success be


Though nonsense flow'd in the melodious sound. 'Tis nobly done thus to enrich the stage,

The chastest virgin needs no blushes fear, And raise the thoughts of a degenerate age; The learn'd themfelves not uninstructed hear. To sew how endless joys from freedom spring,

The libertine, in pleasures us'd to roll, How life in bondage is a worthless thing.

And idly sport with an immortal soul, The inborn greatpefs of your soul we view,

Here comes, and, by the virtuous heathen taught, You tread the paths frequented by the few;

Turns pale, and trembles at the dreadful thought With so much strength you write, and so much

Whene'er you traverse vast Numidia's plains, case, Virtue and sense! how durst you hope to please? When Juba seeks the tiger with delight,

What fluggish Bricon in his ille remains ! let crowds the sentiments of every line

We beat the thicket, and provoke the fight; Impartial clapt, and own'd the work divine. Ev'n the four critics, who nialicious came,

By the description warm’d, we fundly sweat,

and in the chilling cart wind pant with heat. Fager to. cenfure, and resolv'd to blame,

What eyes behold not, how the stream refines, Finding the hero regularly rise,

Till by degrees the flating mirror shines? Great while he lives, but greater when he dies,

While hurricanes in circling, Sullen approv'd, too obstinate to melt,

Tear up the sands, and sweep whule plains away, And ficken'd with the pleasures which they felt.

We shrink with horror, and confess our fear, Not so the fair their passion secret kept, Silent they heard, but, as they heard, they wept; When royal robes, difain'd with blood, deceives

And all the sudden founding ruin hear. Teader Hufand, dedicated to Mr. Addison

And make poor Marcia beautifully grieve;



When the her secret thoughts no more conceals,

When crowded theatres with lo's rong
Porgets the woman, and her flame reveals; Sept to the skics, from whence thy genius sprung:
Well may the prince exul. with poble fride, Ey'n civil rage a while in thice was loft,
Not for his Libyan crowd, bot Roman bride. And factions trove but to applaud thee moft;
But I in vain on fipgle features dwell,

Nor could enjoyment pall our longing tale,
Where all the parts of the fair piece excel. But every night was dearer than the last.
So rich the store, lo dubious is the feast,

As when old Rume, in e maligoast hour
We know Dot which to pass, or which to taste. Depriv'd of some returning conqueror,
The hiding incidents so justly fall,

Her debt of triumph to the dead discharg'd,
We may the whole new scenes of transport call. For fame, for ireasure, and her bourds enlarg'd;
Thus jewellers copfound our wandering eyes, And while his godlike figure mor'd aloog,
And with variety of gems surprise.

Alternate paffioes fir'd th' adoring throng; Here fapphires, here the Sardian ftone is seen, Tears fluw'd from every ese, and thouts from The topaz yellow, and the jasper green.

cvery tongue; The coly brilliant there, copius'diy bright, So in the pompocs lines has Cato far'd, Froni pumerous surfaces darts trembling light; Grac'd with an ample, though a late reward : The different colours miogle in a blaze,

A greater sidor we in him revere; Siledi we ftand, udable where to praise,

A cobler triumph crowns his image here. In pleasure (weetly lost ten thousand ways.

With wooder, as with pleasure, we survey Trinity College, Cambridge. L. EUSDEN.

A theme so scanty wrought in:o 2 play;
So yaft a pile on such foundations plac's;
Lite Ammon's temple rear'd op Litga's watte:

Behold its glowing paiot! its tary peigbe!

Its nice proportions! and fupendous ticight! When your generous labour firt I view'd,

How chaste the conduct: How divide the rage! And Caio's hands in his owe blood imbrucd,

A Roman worthy, on a Grecian ftage! That scene of death to terrible appears,

But where shall Cato's praise regio or end; My soul could only thank you with ber tears. Inclin'd to melt, and yet untaucht to bend, Yet with such wondrous art your kilful hand The firmeit patrint, and the gebilest friend? Does all the pasions of the foui command,

How great his genius, when the traitor crowd That ev'n my grief to praise and wonder turn'd,

Ready to strike the blow their fury row'd; end envy'd the great death which first I mourn'd.

Quell'd by his look, and itteniog to his lore, What pen, but your's, could draw the doubtful! Leard, like his paffions, to rebel ao more! Brise

When, lavish of his boiling blooa, to prove Of honcur struggling with the love of life?

The cure of slavith life, and flighred love, Describe the patriot, obftinately good,

Brave Narcus Dew in early death appears, As hovering o'er eternity he tood:

While Cato counts his wounds, and not his years; The wide, th' unbounded ocean lay before

Who, checking private gries, the public mouros, His piercurig fight, and bearen the distant share.

Commands the pity he so greatış fiores; Secure of endles biiss, with fearful eyes,

But when he frikes (to crutrn bis gercrous part) He grasps the dagger, and its poict defies,

That hopeft, llaunch, impradicable heart; Andrushes out of life lo soatch the glorious prize,

No tears, no lobi, pursue lis parting breath; How would old Rome rejoice, to hear you tell The dying Roman fhames the pomp of death.

. How juit her patriot lie'd, how great he fell! O sacred freedom! which the powers bestow Reeonat his wondrous probity and truth,

To season bleflings, and to soften wre; And form new Juba's in the British yooth.

Plant of our growth, and aim of all cur cares, Their generous fouls, when he religns his breath,

The toil of ages, and the crowd of wars; Are pleas'd with ruin, and in love with death :

If, taught by thee, the poet's wit has flow'd And when her conquerinz iword Britannia draws,

In strains as precious as his hero's blood; Rcfolves to perish, or deteod her caure.

Preserve those ftrains, an everlasting charm Now first on albion's theatre we fee

To keep chat blood and thy remembrance wam; A perfect image of what man should be;

Be this thy guardian image still secure, The glorious character is now expref,

lp vain shall force invade, or fraud allure; Of virtue dwelling in a human breatt:

Our great Palladium thall perform its part, Drawo at full length by your immortal lines,

Fir'd and cathrin'd in every British heart. Io Cato's foul, as in her leaves the hipes.

All Sculs College, Oxon. DIGBY COTES.




Now we may speak, fince Cato speaks no more 'Tis praise at length, 'ikas rapture all before :

* These verscs werd by Gecige Jeforcys, Elg.

Lone had the tragic muse forgot to weep,
By modern operas quite luild alleep:
No matter what the lines, the voice was clear i
Thus fense was facrific'd to please the car.


331 de lait, * ODE wit ftood up in our defence, ,

Ase er'n the fair reclaim'?? ada dast ebey fit And dar'd (O impodepce :) to poblife-sense. loter:t on virtue, and be pleas'd with vit? 6000 then 25 Dent the jaft tragedian spoke,

What mpit, but thine, could thus gedeen og The ladies figh'd again, the beaux awoke.

talte, Those heads that usd most indolent to move With thow deladed, and with found debas'd ? To bog-song, bailad, and sodata love,

Hard was the task, and worthy of you rage, Began their baried lenses :0 explore,

Yaa seem the great Alcides of the age: And found they now had paffiods as before : How gloriotiy you rise in our defence : The power of nature in their bofoms felt,

Your cause is liberty; your armout, sense; In spite of prejudice, compellid to melt.

The brord of lustful monftets you control,
Whan Caiu's firm, all hope of coccour paft, Which find the genius, and degrade the fond :
Holding his stubboro virtue to the last,

Those fresco perle Fou chace with mask aris,
I vier, with joy and conscious transport fir'd, And kindle Roman Sres in Britis hearts.
The fond of Rome in one great man rctir'd: Oh: fis, as well as raise, chat poble iame :
la hir, as if te by copiaement gain'd,

Confirm your glory, and prevent our hane.
Her powers and energy are higher it ain's The roured opera may return again,
Thas when in crowds of senzcors the reigo'd! Seduce our hearts, and o'er our spirits reigo :
Caro well scorp'd the life that Calar gare,

Era Caio is a doubaal match for al,
When itar 2.d weakness only bid him lave : Asd right, opprett with ouds, again may fall;
But when a virtue libe his own tesires

Let our juit fears your second aid implora,
The bero's cozitaocs_with jay he lives.

Repeat the lirike, this Hydra spring: Do more.
Obierve the justbeis of the poet's thoagles,
Whole imaller ticellence is want of faits :
Without added pomp and noise be warms;
Witboot the gaudy dress of beauty charms.
Love, the olt fubje& if the butia'd male,
Returns, but such as Roman sirgios use.

A Firtuous lore, chattis u by purest thought,

TRAGEDY OF CATO, Not from the fancy, but itom 031UTE wrought.

Britons, viih lefsen'd wonder, Dow behold
Your forme: wiis, and all your bards of old;

Joalon cui-vy'd in his own way conicis;
And own that Shakspeare's self som pdares less. Ix vain, O heavenly mad, do I perase
While Picebui binds the laurel on his brok,

Th’initrustive labours of the tragic mule,
Rise up, șe meses; and se poets, bow :

If Caro's virtue cannot care my cool, Superior worth wiib admiration greet,

And all the jarring rafficas chère cooTO!
And place him deareft to his Phabus' izat.

In rainbat ab: what arguments can prore
Suficient to remi the furce of love?
I burn like Marcos in th'ispetuous fire;

Liše him I la guió with the find defira;

Like him ) groan beneath th' unca'y weight,

Aod efs, Be him dexpairag, wih up faze. Qarafered by Mr. dididin's Tragedy of tout mm. Could you with Lucia's eyes beholů my pain,

Then would you trive to foften your disdzia :

My ansious grieis socr cender breat would His ancient Rome by party-facions rent,

more, Long únce the generous Caso uid lament;

And raise compaffion, where they could not love, Himself united with his couarry's cansi,

But lo, bright Marcia! fci, relentless fair, Bravely refus'd to live, 'nidil di ing laws.

In Cars's daughier ihy whole liif appear. Pleas'd with returning liberis to come,

la thee, alas! her loreiy virtues thine, With joy the hero rites from his tomb;

Her charms, ber heavenly beauties, all are thine; And in Britannia finds a second Rome.

And whilft in noring punders is display'd Till by repeaidd rage, and civil fires,

Juba's loft paikon for the glorious maid, Th' unhappy patriot again expires;

Think you behold your lover prostrace lie,
Veeps o'er her face, and to the gods retires. In tendereft accenis think you hear me nigh:

Then, then be kind and on my fufferings (mie
As generous Marcia pitied juba's coil.

Thou, in whom all the Roman ritues dvel,

Let Dor the Roman mexy thine excel; (FROM STEBLE'S COLLECTION.)

Since love like that of Juba filis my breat,

Let me at length with equal joys be bleita
Is Britain rescued from th' Italian chain,
And the dear song neglected for thy ftrain ?

*** The rerles of Dr. Young, Mr. Tickell, and Ms.

Hushes, on this sagedy, are wong the picms of the + The Spectator

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с А Т 0. Th' insulting tyrant prancing o'er the field To follow glory, and confess his father. Strow'd with Ronie's citizens, and úrench'd in Love is not to be reaso:;'ı! dwn, or lost slaughter,

In high ambition, and a thirit of greatness; His horse's hools wet with Patrician blood.

'T! fecund life, it grows into th: lou, Oh Portius, is there not some cholen curse,

Warms every vein, and bea's in every pulse.
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, I feel it here : my resolutio! melin
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the nian

Who owes his greatness co his country's ruin? B:hold young Juba, the Numidian prince!

With how much care hc furnis hinself in crys Believe me, Marcus, 'tis an impious greatness,

And breaks the fiercenes of his na'nvetiuper And mixt with too niuch horror to be envy'd : To copy out our farher's hrig'it Napi. How does the luftre of our father's actions,

He loves our fifter Marcia, g'catly luves her; Through the dark cloud of ills that cover him, His eyes, his looks his actions, all berrey ic: Break out, and burn with more triumphant bright. But still the further'd for incl. burns within him, ness!

When most it swells and labours for a vent, His sufferings shine, and spread a glory round him; The sense of honour and di fire of fame Greatly unfortuläte, he fights the cause

Drive the big passion back into his heart. Of honour, viriue, liberty, and Rome.

Whac : Mall an African, thail Juba's heir, His sword pe'er fell but on the guilty head; Reproach great Cato's son, and shew the world Oppression, tyraony, and power usurp'd,

A virtue wanting in a Roman fuul?
Draw all the vengeance of his arm upon then.


Portius, no more! your words leave fings bsWho knows not this? But what can Cato do

hind them. Against a world, a base degenerate world,

Whene'er did Juba, cr did Portius, fnew That courts the yoke, and bows the neck to Cæfar? A virtue that has cast me at a dištance, Pent up in Utica, he vainly forms

And chrown me out in the pursuits of honour? A poor epitome of Roman greatness,

Portius. And, cover'd with Numidian guords, directs

Marcus, I know thy generius temper well; A feeble army, and an empty lenare,

Fling but th' appearance of dishonour on it, Rcminants of mighty battles fought in vain. It Itrait takes fire, and mounts into a blaze. By heavens, such vircucs, join'd with such suc.

DIarcus. cels,

A brother's sufferings claim a brother's pity. Dilract my very foul : our father's fortune

Would almost tompt us to renounce his precepts.

Heaven knows I pity thee: behold my eyes

Ev'n whilft I speak. -Do they not svim io tears?
Remember what our father oft has told us : Were bu! my heart as naked to thy view,
The ways of heaven are dark and intricate;

Marcus would see it bleed in his behalf. Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors,

Marcus. Our understanding traces them in vain,

Why then doft treat me with rebukes, instead Loft and bewilder'd in the fruitless fiarch;

Of kind condeling cares and friendly forrow? Nor fees with how much art the windings run,

Nor where the regular confusion ends.

O Marcus, did I know the way to ease

Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains,
These are fuggestions of a mind at ease :

Narcus, believe me, I could die to do it. Oh Portius, didit chou taste bue half the griefs

Marcus. That wring my soul, thou could'It not talk thus Thou best of brothers, ard thou heft of friends, coldly.

Pardosi a weak diftemper'd svul, that iwells Pallion unpity'd and successless love

With ludden gusts, and sinks as loin in calms, Plant daggers in my heart, and aggravate

The fpurt of pafsions.But Sempronius comes:
My other griefs. Were but my Lucia kind ! He must not find this fofineis hanging on me. (Exit

Thou see'st not that thy brother is thy rival :
But I must hide it, for I know thy temper. (Afte

Now, Marcus, now, thy virtue's on the proof:
Put forth thy utmost strength, work every nerve,

And call up all thy farher in thy soul :

Conspiracies no tnoner should be formid To ll the syrant love, and guard thy heart

Than executed. What means Portius here?
On this weak lide, where most our naturc fails, I like not char cold y'uth. I nuft diffenible,
Would be a conquest wristhy Cato's son.

Auld speak a language foreigu to niy heart.
Porrius, the counsel which I cannot take,

Sempronius, Portius.
Instead : .f healing byr upbraids niy weakness

Sim, roniur. Bid me for hopour plunge into a war

Good morrow, Portius! let us once embrace Of thick it foes, and rush on certain death, Once more embrace; whilli yet we both are Then bale thou see that Marchs is not dow


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