Ah! luckless imp is he, whose worth elate, There stood an ancient mount, yclept Parnass, The Muses fair, these peaceful shades among, With skilful fingers sweep the trembling strings; The air in silence listens to the song, And Time forgets to ply his lazy wings; Pale-visag'd Care, with foul unhallow'd feet, Attempts the summit of the hill to gain, Ne can the hag arrive the blissful seat; Her unavailing strength is spent in vain, Content sits on the top, and mocks her empty pain. Oft Phoebus self left his divine abode, And here enshrouded in a shady bow'r, Regardless of his state, lay'd by the god, And own'd sweet Music's more alluring pow'r. On either side was plac'd a peerless wight, Whose merit long had fill'd the trump of Fame; This, Fancy's darling child, was Spenser hight, Who pip'd full pleasing on the banks of Tame; That no less fam'd than he, and Milton was his name. In these cool bow'rs they live supinely calm; Now Milton sung of disobedient man, And Eden lost: the bards around them. throng, Drawn by the wond'rous magic of their princes' song. Not far from these, Dan Chaucer, ancient wight, A lofty seat on Mount Parnassus held, Who long had been the Muses' chief delight; His reverend locks were silver'd o'er with eld;" Grave was his visage, and his habit plain And while he sung, fair Nature he display'd, In verse albeit uncouth, and simple strain; Ne mote he well be seen, so thick the shade, Which elms and aged oaks had all around him made. Next Shakspeare sat, irregularly great, And in his hand a magic rod did hold, Which visionary beings did create, And turn the foulest dross to purest gold: Whatever spirits rove in earth or air, Or bad or good, obey his dread command; To his behests these willingly repair, Those aw'd by terrours of his magic wand, The which not all their pow'rs united might withstand. Beside the bard there stood a beauteous maid, Whose glittering appearance dimm'd the eyen; Her thin-wrought vesture various tints display'd, Fancy her name, ysprong of race divine; Her mantle wimpled1 low, hér silken hair, Which, loose adown her well-turn'd shoulders stray'd, "She made a net to catch the wanton Air," Whose love-sick breezes all around her play'd And seem'd in whispers soft to court the heav'nly maid. And ever and anon she wav'd in air And blithe attendants upon Mab their queen On th' other side stood Nature, goddess fair; A matron seem'd she, and of manners staid; Beauteous her form, majestic was her air, In loose attire of purest white array'd:A potent rod she bore, whose pow'r was such, (As from her darling's works may well be shown) That often with its soul-enchanting touch, She rais'd or joy, or caus'd the deep-felt groan, And each man's passions made subservient to her own. But lo! thick fogs from out the earth arise, And fore the time sore-grieving seeks his wat'ry bed. Envy, the daughter of fell Acheron, (The flood of deadly hate and gloomy night) Had left precipitate her Stygian throne, And through the frighted heavens wing'd her flight: With careful eye each realm she did explore, Ne mote she ought of happiness observe; For happiness, alas! was now no more, Sith ev'ry one from virtue's paths did swerve, And trample on religion base designs to serve. At length, on blest Parnassus seated high, Their temple circled with a laurel crown, Spenser and Milton met her scowling eye, And turn'd her horrid grin into a frown. Full fast unto her sister did she post, There to unload the venom of her breast, To tell how all her happiness was crost, Sith others were of happiness possest: Did never gloomy Hell send forth like ugly pest. " Along the floor black loathsome toads still crawl, Their gullets swell'd with poison's mortal bane, Which ever and anon they spit at all Whom hapless fortune leads too near her den; Around her waist, in place of silken zone, A life-devouring viper rear'd his head, Who no distinction made 'twixt friend and foen, But death on ev'ry side fierce brandished, Fly, reckless mortals, fly, in vain is hardy-head3. Impatient Envy, through th' etherial waste, With inward venom fraught, and deadly spite, Unto this cavern steer'd her panting haste, Enshrouded in a darksome veil of night. Her inmost heart burnt with impetuous ire, And fell destruction sparkled in her look, Her ferret eyes flash'd with revengeful fire, Awhile contending passions utt'rance choke, At length the fiend in furious tone her silence broke. "Sister, arise! see how our pow'r decays, No more our empire thou and I can boast, Sith mortal man now gains immortal praise, Sith man is blest, and thou and I are lost: See in what state Parnassus' hill appears; See Phoebus' self two happy bards atween; See how the god their song attentive hears; This Spenser hight, that Milton, well I ween! Who can behold unmov'd sike heart-tormenting scene? "Sister, arise! ne let our courage droop, Perforce we will compel these mortals own, That mortal force unto our force shall stoop; Envy and Malice then shall reign alone: Thou best has known to file thy tongue with lies And to deceive mankind with specious bait: Like Truth accoutred, spreadest forgeries, The fountain of contention and of hate: Arise, unite with me, and be as whilom great!" The fiend obey'd, and with impatient voice"Tremble, ye bards, within that blissful seat; Malice and Envy shall o'erthrow your joys, Nor Phœbus self shall our designs defeat, Shall we, who under friendship's feigned veil, Prompted the bold archangel to rebel; Shall we, who under show of sacred zeal, Plung'd halfthe pow'rs of Heav'n in lowest HellSuch vile disgrace of us no mortal man shall tell." 3 Hardy-head. Courage. And now, more hideous rendered to the sight, By reason of her raging cruelty, She burnt to go, equipt in dreadful plight, Her eyes inflam'd did cast their rays askance, And find out nations that extended far, When all was pitchy dark, ne twinkled one bright star. Black was her chariot, drawn by dragons dire, And each fell serpent had a double tongue, Which ever and anon spit flaming fire, The regions of the tainted air among; A lofty seat the sister-monsters bore, In deadly machinations close combin'd, Dull Folly drove with terrible uproar, And cruel Discord follow'd fast behind; God help the man 'gainst whom such caitiff foes are join'd. Aloft in air the rattling chariot flies, While thunder harshly grates upon its wheels; Black pointed spires of smoke around them rise, The air depress'd unusual burthen feels; Detested sight! in terrible array, They spur their fiery dragons ou amain, Ne mote their anger suffer cold delay, Until the wish'd-for region they obtain, And land their dingy car on Caledonian plain. Here, eldest son of Malice, long had dwelt A wretch of all the joys of life forlorn; His fame on double falsities was built: (Ah! worthless son, of worthless parent born!) Under the shew of semblance fair, he veil'd The black intentions of his hellish breast; And by these guileful means he more prevail'd 'T'han had he open enmity profest; The wolf more safely wounds when in sheep's clothing drest. Him then themselves atween they joyful place, (Sure sign of woe when such are pleas'd, alas!) Then measure back the air with swifter pace, Until they reach the foot of Mount Parnass. Hither in evil hour the monsters came, And with their new companion did alight, Who long had lost all sense of virtuous shame, Beholding worth with poisonous despight; On his success depends their impious delight. Long burnt he sore the summit to obtain, At lenth, at unawares, he out doth spit And spread benumbing death through every vein; The bard of life bereft fell senseless on the plain. As at the banquet of Thyestes old, The Sun is said t' have shut his radiant eye, So did he now through grief his beams withhold, And darkness to be felt o'erwhelm'd the sky; boder Forth issued from their dismal dark abodes The birds attendant upon hideous night, Shriek-owls and ravens, whose fellcroaking bode Approaching death to miserable wight: Did never mind of man behold sike dreadful sight? Apollo wails his darling done to die By foul attempt of Envy's fatal bane; The Muses sprinkle him with dew of Castaly, And crown his death with many a living strain; Hoary Parnassus beats his aged breast, Aged, yet ne'er before did sorrow know; The flowers drooping their despair attest, Th' aggrieved rivers querulously flow; All nature sudden groan'd with sympathetic woe. But, lo! the sky a gayer livery wears, The melting clouds begin to fade apace, And now the cloak of darkness disappears, (May darkness ever thus to light give place!) Erst griev'd Apollo jocund looks resumes, The Nine renew their whilom cheerful song, No grief Parnassus' aged breast consumes, For from the teeming earth new flowers sprong, The plenteous rivers flow'd full peacefully along. The stricken bard fresh vital heat renews, Whose blood, erst stagnant, rushes through his reins; Life through each pore her spirit doth infuse, And Fame by Malice unextinguish'd reigns: And see, a form breaks forth, all heav'nly bright, Upheld by one of mortal progeny, A female form, yclad in snowy-white, Ne half so fair at distance seen as nigh; Douglas and Truth appear, Envy and Lauder die. PROLOGUE TO THE JEALOUS WIFE. THE Jealous Wife! a comedy! poor man! VOL. XV. INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN AT DRURY- GENIUS, neglected, mourns his wither'd bays; PROLOGUE TO HECUBA. SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, 1761. Kind social chorus, which all humours meets, -Oh! might true taste, in these unclassic days, Revive the Grècian fashions with their plays! Then, rais'd on stilts, our players would stalk and age, And, at three steps, stride o'er a modern stage; H Each gesture then would boast unusual charms, O! glorious times, when actors thus could strike, Less change of face than in our Punch they saw, Yet, though depriv'd of instruments like these, Of raillery then, ye modern wits, beware, ODE SPOKEN ON A PUBLIC OCCASION AT WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. NOR at Apollo's vaunted shrine, Offers the youth his ineffectual vow, Far be their rites!--Such worship fits not now; Each breast receives the present flame: [strings, Of mitred sages, bards divine, Oh Memory! how thou lov'st to stray, Of childhood's greener years! when simple youth 'Tis then the souls congenial meet, 'Twas here, in many an early strain When Busby's skill, and judgment sage, Nor, Cowley, be thy Muse forgot! which strays Well might thy morals sweet engage Could lure thee from the sober charms, But with the poet's phrensy bold, Pluck the icon Laurel from the hand of Fame! See! where Britannia stands On yonder sea-beat shore! Behold her languid air! Majestic now no more! Still on the sullen wave her eye is bent, And," Cruel gods!" she cries; And "Cruel gods!" replies. BOTH. Will by the hero now be done CHORUS. His great career of fame is run, And all the loss deplore. Enter MARS. Lo! Mars, from his beloved land, And again the laurel wear: For see! Britannia rears her drooping head; Proclaims the people's choice. CHORUS, within the scenes. He is our liege, our rightful lord! Long live the king! He is our liege!-he!-he alone! With British heart he mounts the throne: He will protect his native land! [The Muses rise and put on their laurels. CALLIOPE. The Muses now their heads shall raise; And wake each vocal string; Pleas'd with his mimic strife. Sweet Mercy! Faith! celestial Truth! Shall live the guardian of the laws; He now will guard your sacred cause. |