Such the delusive arts, that still maintain
O'er half the world unfading error's reign,^
Not such the zeal, mistaken and o'erwrought,
Not such the rites by true devotion taught ; —
Vain empty duties : — not by these alone
Shall Christ's disciples for their sins atone ;
PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA. 17
Nor hope the Author of their faith to please
By barren pomp and showy gifts like these.
Fount of Eternal Life ! how far more dear
In thy pure sight will stedfast faith appear ;
How far more precious, through the mortal strife,
The guiltless conscience, and unspotted life !
Thee, Son of God ! on God's right hand enthroned,
(Who once on earth the form of manhood own'd,
For us who sufter'd, and for us who bled,
Mute as the peaceful lamb to slaughter led,
AVho took the bondage of the world away,)
With grateful hearts we worship and obey :
Thou to lost mortals hast redemption giv'n.
And dying hast restored our forfeit hopes of Ileav'n \
B
NOTE.
Verse 195 — 204. The black stone in the Kaaba, so
much celebrated among the Mohammedans, is held by
them in the highest estimation, all the pilgrims kiss-
ing it with great devotion. Its blackness, which is
only superficial, is owing to the kisses and touches
of so many peeple. The outside of the Kaaba is
covered with rich black damask, adorned with an em-
broidered band of gold, which is changed every year,
and was formerly sent by the Caliphs, afterwards by
the Sultans of Egypt, and is now provided by the
Turkish Emperors.
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN PRIZE TOKM
RECITED IN THE THEATRE AT OXFORD,
A. D. 1792.
BY
JOHN RICHARDSON,
OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE;
AFTF.RWAP.DS ONE OF THE JUDGES IN THE COURI OF (OMMON
PLEAS.
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
" Where am I borne ? shall France, beloved in
vain,
" Enchant no more these weeping eyes again ? —
" Long on thy past delights shall memory dwell,
♦' Fair, bounteous land! — beloved in vain, farewell !
" Long for thy charms this drooping heart shall
pine,
•' Nor e'en my country's hills be dear as thine.
" Farewell ! fond scenes of early bliss decay'd,
" And Hymen's joys too swiftly doom'd to fade !"
Thus, on the vessel's deck reclintd, that bore
Her widow'd hopes from Gaul's receding shore,
22 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
While to that shore still dimly seen she turn'd
Her tearful eyes, — the Queen of Scotia mourn'd :
Mourn'd o'er her youthful lord, untimely lost.
And sad recall to Scotia's native coast.
Nor vain her grief : too well prophetic fears
Foretold the sorrows of her future years.
E'en in that hour, o'er Scotia's hapless land
Vindictive Faction waved her threatening brand ;
And, prompt to spurn subverted laws, arose
Sedition's train, the deadliest of her foes :
Oft with domestic broil her streets were rife ;
Opposing chieftains urged their clans to strife ;
Youth's ardent train a kindred wrath inspires.
And all the feudal hatred of their sires.
E'en at that hour. Religion's alter'd form
Gave deeper horror to the dark'ning storm ;
Wide o'er the land the gathering frenzy spread,
Nor spared the mould'ring ashes of the dead ;
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 23
Razed the proud pile, revered by Time in vain,
And crush'd the grandeur of the Gothic fane.
Woe to the rude untutor'd breasts, that feel
The madd'ning ardour of religious zeal !
Woe to fair Scotia's realm, that early view'd
The fiercer horrors of that reckless feud ;
When 'midst her altars Discord raged afar.
And mitred Prelates mingled in the war !
Unfelt these perils, and these ills unknown,
Unhappy Mary seeks her joyless throne.
Oh ! rather form'd the festal dance to lead,
Than curb the growth of dark llebellion's seed,
Of courtly throngs the homage to command.
Than wield the sceptre o'er a factious land,
More pleased the gay presiding sylph to reign
Of blithesome revels on the banks of Seine, —
How shall the Muse, lamented Queen ! relate
The mournful annals of thy chequer'd fate ;
24 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
Or trace the ills that darken 'd o'er thy brow,
When thy fair lips renew'd their nuptial vow ?
Though partial hope, in Darnley's nobler mien.
The kingly virtues of his race had seen ;
Yet manly grace, and Love's dissembling art
Ne'er mask'd the venom of a baser heart :
Within that breast no grateful feeling grew.
No sacred bound his dire ambition knew ;
Pall'd on his abject sense each joy possess'd.
And lawless aims despoil'd his soul of rest.
Nor long, within its secret cell confined,
Slept the foul purpose of his evil mind :
See ! fired with jealousy's corroding thought,
To frenzied acts by treacherous counsel wrought,
The Queen's retreat her vengeful lord invades,
And dark assassins wave their sheathless blades :
Thee death awaits, at Darnley's fierce command.
Unhappy minstrel of Italia's land !
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 25
Whose native melody's beguiling pow'rs
Gave brighter charms to Mary's pensive hours.
Thee by that ruthless train enclosed she view'd.
Saw in thy blood their murd'rous hands embrued ;
Pour'd her faint prayer for Mercy's boon in vain,
E'en now expectant of a Mother's pain.
Degenerate Chief! unworthy of a throne, —
Thy people's hate no timely pause had known ;
In Scotia's annals cursed thy name had been,
But Pity mourns thy life's departing scene :
And Mercy, shudd'ring o'er thy fate severe,
Blots of thy crime the record with a tear.
What lurking foe the fatal plot decreed ?
What fiend malii^nant urged the guilty deed ?
Oh ! skill'd in arts the vulgar herd to please.
Source of thy Sister's ills, and banish'd case,
Truth's honest semblance too expert to wear,
Yet all Ambition's baser schemes prepare, —
26 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
Fraud's countless forms, ungrateful Murray ! vied
Thy daring steps in fame's pursuit to guide :
'Twas thine unmark'd, where'er Ambition led.
Of Discord's torch the kindling flame to spread ;
O'er Scotia's ills with secret hopes to brood ;
Safe from the peril, watch the gathering feud;
Seize, crafty statesman ! on the ripening hour,
And raise the bulwark of thy destined pow'r.
Nor less prevail'd aspiring Bothwell's guilt :
Bold were the hopes his soul presumptuous built ;
By fierce desire's unbridled impulse driv'n
To brave the laws alike of man and Heav'n.
'Mid the deep vaults with fatal art bestow'd,
The hidden thunders fill the King's abode ;
Insidious ruin lurks around — beneath —
And secret horrors fraught with instant death.
The train explodes : with loud terrific ire
Bursts the wild torrent of volcanic fire :
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 27
Riv'n by the shock, the crumbling walls declare
Too well the triumph of the midnight snare.
And he — the victim of perfidious hate —
He sleeps, unconscious of impending fate :
The train explodes; the mimic thunders roar; —
And Scotia's monarch wakes on earth no more :
While pitying subjects, in surprise profound,
Gaze on the corse, unblemish'd with a wound.
O'erwhelmingawe to Faction's league denies
United force, and bursts confederate ties :
On Gallia's shore secluded Murray broods
In silent rancour o'er prospective feuds ;
But loftier schemes th' impetuous Bothwell move,
And all the furies of resistless love.
Nor words alone, nor whisper'd vows, proclaim
To Mary's ear th' aspiring suitor's aim :
Unblushing force the helphss Queen enthralls,
And Freedom mocks her 'midst a vassal's halls.
28 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
Where loiter'd Scotia's brave indignant lords ?
Leap'd from their sheaths no swift avenging swords?
Far from her native hills had Valour flown.
Or spared to vindicate th' insulted throne ?
Vain, 'midst embattled walls, and lawless hosts.
In Mary's aid were all that Valour boasts ;
Too vain, as Scotia views, in evil hour.
The willing victim of licentious pow'r ;
And Hymen's torch, with renovated flame.
Sheds a faint lustre o'er her tarnish'd fame.
Wide 'mid the wavering train, by Murray led.
Their baleful arts incentive traitors spread ;
And, feebly shrinking from fraternal wrath,
Views the sad Queen a lion in her path.
Roused at that Brother's call, o'er Scotia's land
Again Sedition waves her fatal brand ;
Far flies th' Aggressor from the kindling strife.
And saves by flight alone his forfeit life.
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 29
For thee — sad victim of th' increasing feud !
By despot Power's reviling wrath pursued,
Hurl'd from thy throne, and forced, in plight
forlorn,
To bear the rancour of plebeian scorn,
On the lone island of a cheerless lake,
Where Nature's smiles the dreary waste forsake.
Torn from thy friends, where barrier rocks en-
close, —
'Tis doom'd to wrestle with a captive's woes.
Yet shall not barrier rocks exclude relief,
Nor plead in vain the majesty of grief:
Youth's generous aid shall Beauty's wrongs redeem,
And Fame's bright page immortalize the theme.
Day's ling'ring splendour faded from the West,
And caution's plot nocturnal shadows bless'd :
Her ardent champion hail'd propitious night;
And opening portals smiled on Mary's lli^ht :
30 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
Blithe freedom's air the rescued Queen inhaled,
And cherish'd hope's returning light prevail'd.
With noiseless speed they gain the welcome beach.
The ready bark in breathless fear they reach ;
Awhile they tremble at the startling oar.
Till friends unchanged surround them on the shore.
Oh! short and transient was the prosp'rous hour: —
So, when deceitful April's vernal show'r
Recedes awhile, and o'er the smiling plain
Sol's genial beams their fost'ring pow'r regain,
Soon fades the ray, with treacherous lustre warm,
And darker grows the horror of the storm.
Lamented Queen ! how oft the Muse hath pray'd
That o'er thy fate were thrown Oblivion's shade !
That Time could hide, or fearless Truth deny
The sullied glories of thy false Ally !
Dark o'er her future years the tempest rose,
\\ hen, 'midst defeated hopes, and conq'ring foes,
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 31
Deluded Mary sought, with suppliant mien,
The proffer'd aid of England's artful Queen.
For oft, while Discord's gath'ring fury burn'd.
Torn with internal strife while Scotia mourn'd,
Oft held the Virgin Queen to Mary's ear
The specious promise of a friend sincere ;
Urged, with dissembling warmth, from Faction's
roar
Her safe retreat on England's tranquil shore ;
Pledged her fair Rival, driv'n by fate to roam.
The counsel of a friend, the refuge of a home.
What treacherous schemes, through friendship's
smile unseen,
Wreck'd the fond hopes of Scotia's injured Queen!
How shall the Bard in equal strains deplore
Her colder welcome to the sister-shore ;
In strains accordant witli her wrongs declare
Her ling'ring years of exile and despair ;
32 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.
Tell with what art the rebel band implied
To Mary's guilt that hapless Darnley died;
The groundless charge, the shadowy proof relate;
And all the mockery of judicial state :
Then on ideal crimes decrees were built,
And vague epistles changed to words of guilt ;
Then o'er redoubled ills the Victim mourn'd,
Nor e'er to Scotia's native realm return'd.
Ill-fated Queen — by ceaseless wrath pursued.
In captive gloom revolving years she view'd ;
While deadlier malice triumph'd in her woe.
And idle fears assail'd her restless foe :
Each nobler thought those idle fears o'ercome.
And seal a Nation's shame, a Rival's doom.
'Mid awe-struck realms the tale disastrous flew.
Of future perils sad the presage grew,
When, — tacit horror shudd'ring o'er the scene, —
Flow'd on the block the life-blood of a Queen.
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, 33
Oh ! when, triumphant o'er insulting Spain,
Her gallant navies swept the subject main,
Why stain'd Elizabeth her laurel wreath.
And dimm'd her fair renown by Mary's death ?
To her let Fame its fleeting lustre lend.
On all her steps let sovereign pomp attend ;
Yet shall not Fortune's gifts, nor Wisdom's lore
The tranquil slumbers of the just restore,
The mind diseased from conscious guilt release,
That courts in vain the bless'd repose of peace.
Be thine, fair Queen ! no self-accusing sigh ;
Be thine, still worthy of thy race, — to die ;
Thy regal pride uphold with latest breath,
And all the majesty of grief in death ;
Soar undismayed above tyrannic pow'r,
And earn fresh fame in life's departing hour !
M A R I U S
AMIDST
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE.
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN PRIZE POEM
RECITED IN THE THEATRE AT OXFORD,
A. D. 1793.
BY
EDWARD COPLESTON,
OF COUPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE ;
AFTERWARDS PROVOST OF ORIEL COLLEGE,
DEAN OF ST. Paul's,
AND BISHOP Of LLANDAFF.
M A R I U S
AMIDST
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE.
Where Ruin scowls amidst unpeopled walls,
Recumbent altars, and deserted halls.
Where mingled wrecks the pitying eye engage,
Like the sad vestige of Volcanic rage, —
Unsparing havoc of remorseless foes, —
In splendour once imperial Carthage rose.
Yet 'mid the waste of war some broken file
Of pillar'd strength adorns the mould'ring pile;
And shapeless marbles, once the sculptor's pride,
iStill seem to image what the past supplied.
'Mid Ruin's empire dauntless and serene.
His thoughts congenial with the mournful scene,
38 MARIUS AMIDST
Bereft of pow'r, an exile, and alone.
Ill-fated Marius mused on hopes o'erthrown ;
And with the doom of Carthage weigh'd his |
own.
On War's fierce ravage now Remembrance dwells.
And many a tale of changeful fortune tells ;
Now silent Wonder, in that adverse hour,
Views the bold relics of departed Pow'r.
Yet think not Fear the warrior's heart dismay'd.
That Pity's sigh his sympathy betray'd ;
Or dim the eye, that, 'mid Destruction's reign,
Gazed in stern triumph on the wreck-clad plain :
While Memory's spells Tyre's brighter day re-
call,
Thus drew the Chief an omen from her fall :
" Here, clothed in wealth, and long to glory
known,
" Fair Libya's pride, a matchless city shone ;
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 39
" And here, where Ocean's foamy torrents roar,
" Where teeming commerce once bedeck'cl the
shore,
" Where countless barks their precious freight sup-
plied,
" Deserted havens mock the swelling tide.
" Here oft with joy the crowded streets were
rife,
" And far was heard the busy hum of life ;
" Here sage Experience framed the social law,
" Her useful works here Art productive saw ;
" Here scenic pomp applauding hosts admired,
" And holy shrines the votive prayer inspired ;
" While, proudly vaunting o'er defeated foes,
" In festal hour the shout of triumph rose.
" Hush'd are those sounds: — the rav'nin" bird
alone
" Disturbs the silence by her fitful moan ;
40 MARIUS AMIDST
" Or famish'd wolf, sole tenant of decay,
" Howls to the blast, impatient of his prey.
" Not such the fate, in conscious virtue bold,
" On Cannae's plain, Hamilcar's son foretold;
" Not such the fate, by Libya's haughty Queen,
" 'Midst Alpine snows, on Simplon's height, fore-
seen ;
" Nor ills like these could conquering hosts fore-
bode,
" When Rome's proud eagles droop'd by Trebia's
flood.
" Yet, oh ! extended conquest seal'd thy doom,
" And Envy mark'd thee for the spoil of Rome ;
" Bow'd to the dust thy crumbling tow'rs pro-
claim
" The lurking perils that encompass fame.
" Then tremble, Sylla ! Fortune's just decree
" May pour at last affliction's tide on thee.
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 41
" Be mine, while Hope's prospective vision cheers,
" And lulls remembrance of o'erclouded years,
" Be mine, the shafts of malice to disdain,
" And proudly struggle with oppression's chain ! "
On Tyre's decay his glowing thoughts intent,
By peril's blast his dauntless soul unbent,
O'er the sad trace of Desolation's reign
While Marius thus indulged reflection's strain.
By Sylla's mandate, 'mid those scenes of woe,
The Roman Lictor sought for Sylla's foe.
His fearless brow, his stern unalter'd mien,
In adverse hour unyielding and serene,
His haughty eye, — undimm'd the piercing ray, —
And stately form, — at once the Chief betray.
That manly breast a deeper passion stirr'd.
When first the Praetor's fix'd command was heard :
And, as in Latium once, condemn'd to die,
When death's tierce herald quail'd beneath his eye.
42 MARIUS AMIDST
VV hen through the dungeon's gloom its terror flash'd,
And the Minturnian dropp'd his sword abash'd,
Thus roused again its vivid lightning broke,
And proudly thus th' indignant Warrior spoke :
" Go ! be the Przetor's empty threat reproved !
" These tow'rs o'erthrown hath Marius seen un-
moved ;
" And the soul, firm through chequer'd life's ca-
reer,
" 'Mid Ruin's empire yields not now to fear."
Then with himself communion he renews;
" And refuge here," he cries, " doth Fate refuse?
" Hence must I wander, and indulge no more
" Consoling thoughts on Tyre's deserted shore ?
" Hail, welcome Exile ! — 'tis thy fix'd decree,
" Unerring Fortune ! and I bow to thee.
" Let Sylla's threats again oppose my rest,
" My wand'ring steps let Sylla's slaves infest.
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 43
" Nor Sylla's threats, nor Sylla's servile crew,
" Shall e'er this heart by flood or field subdue :
" Oh ! once my native land's defence and pride,
" Xe'er shall my zeal at Sylla's wrath subside.
" Ungrateful countrymen ! ungrateful land !
" Why bear ye thus a Tyrant's base command ?
" Deserved I this, in manhood's prime, when first
" By Scipio's fame my warlike hopes were nursed ;
" When, worthy of the Chief, whose banners flow'd
" Victorious here, my soul with conquest glow'd ?
" Deserved I this, when caution and delay
" Withheld Metellus from the martial fray,
" And, as Numidia's swarthy legions fled,
" His tardy troops this arm to battle led ;
*• Burst with victorious brand th' impending gloom,
" And bore their King in captive chains to liome ?
" When from the frozen North gigantic hordes
" Waved on the barrier Alps their countless swords ;
44 MARIUS AMIDST
" And sought their Arctic winter's lengthen'd
reign
" To change for Italy's unclouded plain;
" Taught far beyond their icy realms to prize
" Her fruitful vallies, and attemper'd skies ; —
" What vengeful arm, — when savage strength pre-
vail'd,
" Her patriots slain when trembling Rome be-
wail'd,
" When terror reign'd, and hope her light with-
drew, —
" What vengeful arm th' invading host o'erthrew?
" Whom in that hour did public grief demand ?
" Who fought and conquer'd for his native land?
" Mine was the aid, in peril's dark'ning hour,
" That check'd the ravage of barbaric pow'r;
" In me their faith the rallying cohorts held,
" At Freedom's call the savage band repell'd,
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 45
" Mock'd their wild gestures 'mid the battle's
storm,
" The glitt'ring faulchion, and the giant form.
" Oh ! on that awful day how dire the strife, —
" How far more precious honour proved than life !
" What mournful carnage dyed th' Athesian
wave,
•* As Latium's plains we scarce avail'd to save !
" In vain their force unnumber'd files reveal'd ;
" In vain the bulwark of the ponderous shield ;
" Unwieldy helms, that pictured lions bore,
" And crescent swords infused dismay no more.
" In vain their war-cry echoed to the blast,
" I n vain their charge the torrent's might surpass'd ;
" Their hostile armies darken'd Rhwtia's plain; —
" But Marius came, — and every threat was vain :
" Home's chosen legions scatter'd all their might; —
*' And oil ! what tumult mark'd the track of flight !
4G MARIUS AMIDST
" There, 'mid the dying and the dead, was seen,
" Borne on her blood-stain'd wheels, each warrior
queen :
" With fearful eye they watch'd the tide of war,
" And hurl'd the javelin from their scythed car;
" Yet when their heroes pierced with wounds
they view'd,
" Their routed bands by Rome's revenge pur-
sued, —
" When ling'ring hope no more their breasts mis-
led,—
" Loud rose the wail of anguish o'er the dead ;
" And, with her guiltless offspring, dire to tell !
" By blows self-dealt each frantic mother fell.
" These were the triumphs of this conq'ring
sword :
"And thou, great Mars! bear witness to my
word,
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 47
" That ne'er did Marius, at thy call, forbear
" The meanest soldier's common lot to share :
" Witness, ye rivers and ye plains, that view'd
" The wide encampment, or the martial feud,
" How oft, when hottest raged the war around,
" 'Mid thick'ning perils first was Marius found ;
" First, as a leader's duty it became,
" Amongst the ranks he nobly led to fame.
" And Fame was mine : — yet what availeth
now
" That well-earn 'd laurels once entwine<l my brow ?
" How vain the boast, if Fortune cease to shine,
" That all these blooming honours once were
mine !
" I — who, begirt with pomp and spoils, of yore,
" To Ammon's shrine the proud ovation bore,
" Whom once a million tongues with loud acclaim
" Hail'd the lledeemer of his Country's fame,
4B MARIUS AMIDST
" Now seek, condemn'd 'mid desert wastes to roam,
" The doubtful shelter of a friendless home.
" Here Fancy's eye a calm retreat survey'd ;
" Hope promised refuge here — yet Hope betray'd.
" But still 'twas sweet, an exile from my race,
" Tyre's faded grandeur, ling'ring here, to trace ;
" To muse, fair Queen of Libya, o'er thy fate,
" And feel the memory of ray wrongs abate :
" 'Twas sweet to view, a partner of my doom,
" Th' aspiring rival of imperial Rome.
" Yet — (as e'en now my prescient thoughts di-
vine,)
" This high distinction marks my fate and thiae :
" Thou, hapless State ! shalt still unhonour'd mourn
" Thy vanish'd splendour, and thy courts for-
lorn ;
" The anxious merchant shall, as erst, no more
" Steer his rich bark to thy neglected shore;
THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 49
•' No distant triumphs shall thy sway proclaim,
*' Nor future Hannibals attest thy fame.
" Mine is a higher fate, a nobler doom ; —
" Again to bear a blood-stain'd laurel home.
" Yes — by the souls of heroes slain I swear,
" Avengers fierce, and thunderbolts of war,
" By him, who first my steps to glory led,
" Him, at whose shock the Punic legions fled, —
" If pow'r in Rome the people grant again,
" If still the vigour of this arm remain, —
•* I swear — Ye Gods ! bear witness to my vow, —
" Beneath ray stern revenge my foe shall bow.
'• Yes— the last sighs of all that once were dear
*' Shall fall untimely on the Traitor's ear;
" AH shall his hand to early graves consign,
" And die himself a gory death by mine.
" Devouring flames the Capitol shall burn,
" In shapeless ruin Rome herself shall mourn;
D
50 MARIUS AMIDST THE RUINS, &C.
" Oblivion's shadow o'er her race be thrown,
" Ere hope of mercy be to Sylla shown ;
" Ere his vile doom of exile be forgiv'n,
" Or Marius breathe a fruitless vow to Heav'n."
NOTE.
Verse 72. When Marius was condemned by the
people of Miiiturnee, a town of Latium, to lose his
head in the dungeon, his stern countenance disarmed
tlie courage of the executioner, and the sword dropped
from his hand.
THE
DRAMA.
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN PRIZE POEM
RECITED IN THE THEATRE AT OXFORD,
A. D. 1794.
By
CHRISTOPHER PULLER,
OF CHRIST CHUKCH ;
AFTERWARDS CHIEF JUSTICE AT CALCUTTA.
THE
DRAMA.
Each glowing sense to charm with Scenic Art,
To touch with sympathy the pitying heart,
To bid departed days, by skill divine,
Beam with fresh fame, — the gift, fair Greece ! was
thine :
From ages past Oblivion's veil to raise.
And deeds of old adorn with living praise.
Oft, where Cephisus flows, as evening fell,
Assembling crowds confess'd the magic spell ;
Oft with admiring eyes, and ears intent.
O'er the rude scene the rustic council bent ;
64 THE DRAMA.
When Thespis first his vagrant band array'd.
And either Muse her various charm display'd.
Yet sports like these, that sought alone to raise
In festal hour the Pastor's simple praise,
Each generous breast inspired with nobler aim,
And guardian Athens nursed the kindling flame.
There ampler honours deck'd the Tragic Queen ;
The solemn Chorus mingled with the scene ;
Harmonious measures woke a new delight.
And splendid Pageants awed th' enchanted sight.
There proudly rose, of every Muse the home,
In pillar'd grandeur, each theatric dome ;
And Fancy still 'mid Ruin's mass surveys
The boasted glory of their brighter days.
'Twas thine, fair Athens I long in War renown'd,
A name as bright in peaceful ease to found ;
Of Scenic Art the infant source to guide,
And raise to worthier fame the Drama's pride.
THE DRAMA. OO
Nor, smiling on Thalia's wit, deny
Fictitious grief, the tribute of a sigh.
And thou, Ilissus ! — by whose favour'd stream
The youthful Poet cherish'd fancy's dream,