Thou faw*ft the wide-extended deep.
In all its horrors rife.
V.
Confufion dwelt in every face.
And fear in every heart ;
When waves on waves, and gulphs on gulphs;^
Overcame the pilot's art.
VI.
Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy fet me free ;
Whilft, in the confidence of prayer.
My foul took hold on thee.
VII.
For though in dreadful whirls we hung
High on the broken wave,
I knew thou wert not flow to hear.
Nor impotent to fave.
VIII.
The ftorm was laid, the winds retlr*d.
Obedient to thy will ;
The fea, that roar'd at thy command.
At thy command was ftill.
IX.
In midfl of dangers, fears, and death.
Thy goodnefs I '11 adore ;
And praife Thee for thy mercies pafl.
And humbly hope for more.
Q.4
jn.^. A D D i S g N's P O i; M S.
X.
My life, if thou preferv'fl my Kfe,
Thy facrifice fhall be ;
And death, if death mull be my doom.
Shall join my foul to Thee.
AN HYMN.
I.
TTTHEN rifmg from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I fee my Maker face to face ;
O how ihall I appear !
11.
If yet, while pardon may be found.
And mercy may be fought.
My heart with inward horror fhrinks.
And trembles at the thought :
III.
When thou, O Lord, ftialt ftand difclos'd
In majefty fevere.
And fit in judgment on my foul;
O how fhall I appear !
IV.
But thou haft told the troubled foul>
Who does her fms lament.
The timely tribute of her tears
Shall endiefs woe prevent.
AN HYMN.
V.
Then fee the forrows of my heart.
Ere yet it be too late ;
And add my Saviour's dying groansji
To give thofe forrows weight.
VI.
For never Ihall my foul defpair
Her pardon to procure.
Who knows Thy Only Son has dy'd
To make that pardon fure.
PARAPHRASE ON PSALM XXIII.
I.
rpHE Lord my pafture fhall prepare.
And feed me with a ihepherd's care;
His prefence Ihall my wants fupply.
And guard me with a watchful eye :
My noon-day walks he Ihall attend.
And all my mid-night hours defend.
II.
When in the fultry glebe I faint.
Or on the thirfly mountain pant ;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wandering fteps he leads :
Where peaceful rivers, foft and flow.
Amid the verdant landfcape flow.
^34 - A D D I S O N's POEMS.
III.
Though in the paths of death I tread.
With gloomy horrors overfpread.
My ftedfaft heart ftiall fear no ill.
For thou, O Lord, art with me Ml ;
Thy friendly crook ihall give me aid.
And guide me through the dreadful fhade.
IV.
Though in a bare and rugged way.
Through devious, lonely wilds I ftray.
Thy bounty Ihall my wants beguile.
The barren vvildernefs Ihall fmile.
With fudden greens and herbage crown'd.
And llreams ihall murmur all around.
THE PLAY-HOU S E*.
vyHERE gentle Thames through flately channels
glides.
And England's proud metropolis divides ;
A lofty fabrick does the fight invade.
And ftretches o'er the waves a pompous fhade ;
Whence fudden fhouts the neighbourhood furprize.
And thundering claps and dreadful hiflings rife.
Here thrifty R — hires monarchs by the day.
And keeps his mercenary kings in pay ;
With deep-mouth'd a6lors fills the vacant fcenes.
And rakes the ftews for goddeffes and queens ;
* See Sedley's Mifcellanies, 8vo. p. zoz.
I
THE PLAY-HOUSE. 435
Here the lewd punk, with crowns and fceptres grac'd.
Teaches her eyes a more majeftic caft ;
And hungry monarchs, with a numerous train
Of fuppliant flaves, like Sancho, ftarve and reign.
But enter in, my Mufe ; the Stage furvey.
And all its pomp and pageantry difplay ;
Trap-doors and pit-falls, from th' unfaithful ground.
And magic walls encompafs it around :
On either fide maim'd Temples fill our eyes.
And intermixt with Brothel-houfes rife ;
Disjointed Palaces in order Hand,
And Groves obedient to the mover's hand
O'erlhade the Stage, and flourifli at command.
A flamp makes broken towns and trees entire :
So when Amphion llruck the vocal lyre.
He faw the fpacious circuit all around.
With crowding woods and rifing cities crown'd.
But next the tiring-room furvey, and fee
Falfe titles, and promifcuous quality,
Confus'dly fwarm, from heroes and from queens,
To thofe that fwing in clouds and fill machines.
Their various charadlers they chufe with art.
The frowning bully fits the tyrant's part :
Swoln cheeks and fwaggering belly make an hoft
Pale meagre looks and hollow voice a ghoft ;
From careful brows and heavy down-caft eyes.
Dull cits and thick-fcull'd aldermen arife :
The comic tone, infpir'd by Congreve, draws
At every word, loud laughter and applaufe :
The whining dame continues as before.
Her character unchang'd, and a6ls a whore.
S36 A D D I S O N's POEMS.
Above the reft, the prince with haughty flalks
Magnificent in purple buikins walks :
The royal robes his awful fhoulders grace,
Profufe of fpangles and of copper-lace :
Officious rafcals to his mighty thigh,
Guiltlefs of blood, th' unpointed weapon tye :
Then the gay glittering diadem put on.
Ponderous with brafs, and ftarr'd with Briftol ftone.
His royal confort next confults her glafs.
And out of twenty boxes culls a face ;
The whitening firft her ghaftly looks befmears.
All pale and wan th' unfiniih'd form appears ;
Till on her cheeks the blufhing purple glows.
And a falfe virgin-modefty beftows.
Her ruddy lips the deep vermilion dyes ;
Length to her brows the pencil's art fupplies.
And v/ith black bending arches ftiades her eyes.
Well pleas'd at length the pidlure fhe beholds.
And fpots it o'er with artificial molds ;
Her countenance compleat, the beaux Ihe warms
With looks not hers ; and, fpight of nature, charms.
Thus artfully their perfons they difguife.
Till the laft flourilh bids the curtain rife.
The prince then enters on the Stage in ftate ;
Behind, a guard of candle-fnufters wait :
There, fwoln with empire, terrible and fierce.
He Ihakes the dome, and tears his lungs with verfe :
His fubjeds tremble ; the fubmiffive pit,
Vv''rapt up in filence and attention, fit ;
Till, freed at length, he lays afide the weight
Of public bufinefs and affairs of ftate :
THE play-house, 237
Forgets his pomp, dead to ambitious fires.
And to feme peaceful brandy-fhop retires ;
Where in full gills his anxious thoughts he drowns.
And quaffs away the care that waits on crowns.
The princefs next her painted charms difplays^
Where every look the pencil's art betrays ;
The. callow 'fquire at diftance feeds his eyes.
And filently for paint and waihes dies :
But if the youth behind the fcenes retreat.
He fees the blended colours melt with heat.
And all the trickling beauty run in fweat.
The borrowed vifage he admires no more.
And naufeates every charm he lov'd before :
$0 the fam'd fpear, for double force renowrl'd,
Apply'd the remedy that gave the wound.
In tedious lifts 't were endlefs to engage.
And draw at length the rabble of the Stage,
Where one for twenty years has given alarms.
And call'd contending monarchs to their arms ;
Another fills a more important poft.
And rifes every other night a ghoft ;
Through the cleft Stage, his mealy face he rears.
Then ftalks along, groans thrice, and difappears ;
Others, with fwords and fliields, the foldier's pride.
More than a thoufand times have chang'd their fide.
And in a thoufand fatal battles dy'd.
Thus feveral perfons feveral parts perform ;
Soft lovers whine, and blullering heroes ftorm.
The Hern exafperated tyrants rage.
Till tlie kind bowl of poifon clears the Stage.
^jbjS ADDISON'S POEMS.
Then honours vanifh, and dillinftions ceafe ;
Then, with reludance, haughty queens undrefs*
Heroes no more their fading laurels boaft.
And mighty kings in private men are loll.
He, whom fuch titles fwell'd, fuch power made proud.
To whom whole realms and vanquifti'd nations bow'd.
Throws ofF the gaudy plume> the purple train>
And in his own vile tatters llinks again.
ON THE LADY MANCHESTER,
WRITTEN ON THE TO AST I N G-G L ASSES OF THE
KIT-CAT CLUB.
TTTHiLE haughty Gallia's dames, that fpread
O'er their pale cheeks, an artful red.
Beheld this beauteous ftranger there
In native charms, divinely fair ;
Confufion in their looks they Ihow'd ;
And with unborrow'd blufhes glow'd.
A T O.
A
TRAGEDY.
** Ecce fpeftaculum dignum, ad quod refplclat, Intentus
** operi fuo, Deus ! Ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis
** cum mala fortuna compofitus ! Non video, inquam,
*' quid habeat in terris Jupiter pulchrius, fi convertere
*' animum velit, quam ut fpeSet Catonem, jam parti-
** bus non femel fra£lis, nihilominus inter ruinas publi-
«* cas eredtum." Sen. de Dmn, Prov.
[ 241 ]
TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE PRINCESS OF WALES,
WITH THE TRAGEDY OF CATO,
NOVEMBER I7I4.
rp H E Mufe that oft, with facred raptures fir*d.
Has generous thoughts of Liberty infpir'd.
And, boldly rifmg for Britannia's laws,
Engag'd great Cato in her country's caufe.
On you fubmiffive waits, with hopes afTur'd,
By whom the mighty bleffing Hands fecur'd.
And all the glories, that our age adorn.
Are promis'd to a people yet unborn.
No longer fhall the widow'd land bemoan
A broken lineage, and a doubtful throne ;
But boaft her royal progeny's increafe.
And count the pledges of her future peace.
O born to ftrengthen and to grace our ifle !
While you, fair Princefs, in your Offspring fmile.
Supplying charms to the fucceeding age.
Each heavenly Daughter's triumphs we prefage;
Already fee th' illuftrious youths complain.
And pity Monarchs doom'd to figh in vain.
Thou too, the darling of our fond defires.
Whom Albion, opening wide her arms, requires.
With manly valour and attradlive air
Shalt quell the fierce, and captivate the faix.
VOL. XXXi R
24* A D D I S N 's P O E M S.
O England's younger hope ! in whom confplre
The mother's fweetnefs, and the father's fire 1
For thee perhaps, ev'n now, of kingly race
Some dawning beauty blooms in every grace.
Some Carolina, to heaven's didates true.
Who, while the fcepter'd rivals vainly fue.
Thy inborn worth with confcious eyes fhall fee.
And flight th' Imperial diadem for thee.
Pleas'd with the profpedl of fucceflive reigns.
The tuneful tribe no more in daring ftrains
Shall vindicate, with pious fears oppreil,
Endanger'd rights, and liberty diftreft :
To milder founds each Mufe fliall tune the lyre.
And gratitude, and faith to kings infpire.
And filial love ; bid impious difcord ceafe.
And footh the madding fadlions into peace ;
Or rife ambitious in more lofty lays.
And teach the nation their new Monarch's pralfe,
Defcribe his awful look, and godlike mind.
And Caefar's power with Cato's virtue join'd.
Meanwhile, bright Princefs, who, with graceful eafe
And native majefty, are form'd to pleafe.
Behold thofe Arts with a propitious eye.
That fuppliant to their great proteftrefs fly !
Then fliall they triumph, and the Britifli flage
Improve her manners, and refine her rage.
More noble characters expofe to view.
And draw her finifli'd heroines from You.
Nor you the kind indulgence will refufe,
Skill'd in the labour* of the deathlefs Mufe :
TO THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 243
The deathlefs Mufe, with undiminilhM rays.
Through diftant times the lovely dame conveys :
To Gloriana Waller's harp was flrung;
The Queen Hill fhines, becaufe the Poet fung.
Ev'n all thofe graces, in your frame combinMi
The common fate of mortal charms may find
(Content our fhort-liv'd praifes to engage.
The joy and wonder of a fmgle age) ,
Unlefs fome Poet, in a lafting fong.
To late pofterity their fame prolong,
Inftrufl our Tons the radiant form to prize.
And fee Your beauty with their fathers' eyes.
VERSES
TO THE
AUTHOR OF THE TRAGEDY OF CATO*
"VjiT H I L E you the fierce divided Britons awe.
And Cato with an equal virtue draw;
While envy is itfelf in wonder loft.
And fadions ftrive who Ihall applaud you moft ;
Forgive the fond ambition of a friend.
Who hopes himfelf, not you, to recommend :
And joins th' applaufe which all the learn'd beftow
On one, to whom a perfedl work they owe.
To my * light fcenes I once infcrib'd your name.
And impotently ftrove to borrow fame ;
Soon will that die, which adds thy name to mine;
Let me, then, live, join'd to a work of thine.
RICHARD STEELE,
* Tender Hulband, dedicated to Mr, Addifon.
R 2
a44 ADDISON'S POEMS.
9 rp IS nobly done thus to enrich the ftage.
And raife the thoughts of a degenerate age ;
To fhew how endlefs joys from freedom fpring.
How life in bondage is a worthlefs thing.
The inborn greatnefs of your foul we view.
You tread the paths frequented by the few;
With fo much flrength you write, and fo much eafe.
Virtue and fenfe ! how durft you hope to pleafe ?
Yet crowds the fentiments of every line
Impartial clapt, and own'd the work divine.
Ev'n the four critics, who malicious came.
Eager to cenfure, and refolv'd to blame.
Finding the hero regularly rife.
Great while he lives, but greater when he dies^
Sullen approved, too obftinate to melt.
And ficken'd with the pleafures which they felt.'
Not fo the fair their paiTions fecret kept.
Silent they heard, but, as they heard, they wept;
When glorioufly the blooming Marcus dy'd.
And Cato told the gods, Pm fatisfy^d.
See ! how your lays the Britiih youth inflame !
They long to Ihoot and ripen into fame ;
Applauding theatres 4ifturb their reft.
And unborn Cato*s heave in every breaft ;
Their nightly dreams, their daily thoughts repeat.
And pulfes high with fancy 'd glories beat.
So, griev'd to view the Marathonian fpoils.
The young Themiftocles vow'd equal toils ;
Did then his fchemes of future honours draw
From the long triumphs which with tears he faw.
TO THE AUTHOR OF CATO. 445
How fhall I your unrival'd worth proclaim.
Loft in the fpreading circle of your fame !
We faw you the great William's praife rehearfe.
And paint Britannia's joys in Roman verfe.
We heard at diftance foft enchanting ftrains.
From blooming mountains, and Italian plains,
Virgil began in Englifli drefs to (hine.
His voice, his looks, his grandeur. Hill divine :
From him too foon unfriendly you withdrew.
But brought the tuneful Ovid to our view.
Then the delightful theme of every tongue,
Th' immortal Marlborough, was your darling fong.
From clime to clime the mighty vidlor flew.
From clime to clime as fwiftly you purfue.
Still with the hero's glow'd the poet's flame.
Still with his conquefts you enlarg'd your fame.
With boundlefs raptures here the Mufe could fwell.
And on your Rofamond for ever dwell:
There opening fweets and every fragrant flower
Luxuriant fmile, a never-fading bower !
Next, human follies kindly to expofe.
You change from numbers, but not fmk in profe :
Whether in vifionary fcenes you play.
Refine our taftes, or laugh our crimes away.
Now, by the bufkin'd Mufe you ftiine confeft.
The patriot kindles in the poet's breaft.
Such energy of fenfe might pleafure raife.
Though unembellifli'd with the charms of phrafe :
Such charms of phrafe would with fuccefs be crown'd.
Though nonfenfe flow'd in the melodious found.
R 3
24-6 A D D I S O N's POEMS.
The chafteft virgin needs no blufhes fear.
The learn'd themfelves not uninllruded hear.
The libertine, in pleafures us'd to roll.
And idly fport with an immortal foul.
Here comes, and, by the virtuous heathen taught.
Turns pale, and trembles at the dreadful thought.
Whene'er you traverfe vaft Numidia's plains.
What lluggifh Briton in his ifle remains !
When Juba feeks the tiger with delight.
We beat the thicket, and provoke the fight;
By the defcription warm'd, we fondly fvveat.
And in the chilling eaft wind pant with heat.
What eyes behold not, how the llream refines.
Till by degrees the floating mirror fhines ?
While hurricanes in circling eddies play.
Tear up the fands, and fweep whole plains away.
We fhrink with horror, and confefs our fear.
And all the fudden founding ruin hear.
When royal robes, diftain'd with blood, deceive.
And make poor Marcia beautifully grieve ;
When ftie her fecret thoughts no more conceals.
Forgets the woman, and her flame reveals ;
Well may the prince exult with noble pride.
Not for his Libyan crown, but Roman bride.
But I in vain on Angle features dwell.
Where all the parts of the fair piece excel.
So rich the ftore, fo dubious is the feaft.
We know not which to pafs, or which to tafte.
The ftiining incidents fo juftly fall.
We may the whole new fcenes of tranfport call.
TO THE AUTHOR OF CATO. a47
Thus jewellers confound our wandering eyes.
And with variety of gems furprize.
Here fapphires, here the Sardian ftone is {een.
The topaz yellow, and the jafper green.
The coftly brilliant there, confus'dly bright.
From numerous furfaces darts trembling light :
The different colours mingle in a blaze.
Silent we ftand, unable where to praife.
In pleafure fweetly loll: ten thoufand ways.
Trinity College, Cambridge. L_ EUSDEN.
S I R,
"vtthen your generous labour firft I view'd.
And Cato's hands in his own blood imbrued.
That fcene of death fo terrible appears.
My foul could only thank you with her tears.
Yet with fuch wondrous art your fkilful hand
Does all the paffions of the foul command.
That ev'n my grief to praife and wonder turn'd.
And envy'd the great death which firft I m.ourn'd.
What pen, but yours, could draw the doubtful ftrifc
Of honour ftruggling with the love of lifei*
Defcribe the patriot, obftinately good.
As hovering o'er eternity he ftood :
The wide, th' unbounded ocean lay before
His piercing fight, and heaven the diftant fhore.
Secure of endlefs blifs, with fearful eyes.
He grafps the dagger, and its point defies.
And ruihes out of life to fnatch the glorious prize
R 4
\
«48 A D D I S O N's P O E M S.
How would old Rome rejoice, to hear you tell
How juft her patriot liv'd, how great he fell I
Recount his wondrous probity and truth,'
And form new Juba's in the Britiih youth.
Their generous fouls, when he reiigns his breathy
Are pleas'd with ruin, and in love with death:
And when her conquering fword Britannia draws,
Refolves to perifh, or defend her caufe.
Now firll on Albion's theatre we fee
A perfed image of what man ihould be ;
The glorious charadler is now expreft.
Of virtue dwelling in a human breafl:
Drawn at full length by your immortal lines.
In Cato's foul, as in her heaven fhe fhines.
All Souls College, Oxon. DIGBY COTES,
LEFT WITH THE PRINTER BY
AN UNKNOWN HAND*.
xTOw we may fpeak, fmce Cato fpeaks no more :
'Tis praife at length, 'twas rapture all before;
When crowded theatres with lo's rung
Sent to the fkies, from whence thy genius fprung;
Ev'n civil rage a while in thine was loft.
And faftions ftrove but to applaud thee moft;
* Thefe verfes were by George Jeffreys, Efq. which Addifon
never knew. See Sele
p. 5^ 5 and fee Dr. Johnfon's encomium on them in the Life of
Addifon. N.
}
TO THE AUTHOR OF CATO. 249
Nor could enjoyment pall our longing talle.
But every night was dearer than the laft.
As when old Rome, in a malignant hour
Depriv'd of fome returning conqueror.
Her debt of triumph to the dead difcharg'd.
For fame, for treafure, and her bounds enlarged;
And while his godlike figure mov'd along.
Alternate paflions fir'd th' adoring throng ;
Tears flow'd from every eye, and fhouts from every
tongue ;
So in the pompous lines has Cato far'd,
Grac'd with an am.ple, though a late reward :
A greater viftor we in him revere ;
A nobler triumph crowns his image here.
With wonder, as with pleafure, we furvey
A theme fo fcanty wrought into a play ;
So vaft a pile on fuch foundations plac'd ;
Like Ammon's temple rear'd on Libya's wafte :
Behold its glowing paint I its eafy weight 1
Its nice proportions ! and ftupendous height !
How chafte the condudl ! How divine the rage I
A Roman worthy, on a Grecian ftage !
But where (hall Cato's praife begin or end ;
Inclin'd to melt, and yet untaught to bend, I
The firmefl: patriot, and the gentleft friend ?
How great his genius, when the traitor crowd
Ready to ftrike the blow their fury vovvM ;
Qucll'd by his look, and liflening to his lore,
Learn, like his palTions, to rebel no more !
^5© A D D I S O N's POEMS*
"When, lavifh of his boiling blood, to prove
The cure of llavifli life, and flighted love.
Brave Marcus new in early death appears.
While Cato counts his wounds, and not his years ;
Who, checking private grief, the public mourns.
Commands the pity he fo greatly fcorns ;
But when he flrikes (to crown his generous part)
That honeft, {launch, impracticable heart ;
No tears, no fobs, purfue his panting breath ;
The dying Roman fhames the pomp of death.
O facred freedom ! which the powers beftow
To feafon bleffings, and to foften woe ;
Plant of our growth, and aim of all our cares.
The toil of ages, and the crown of wars :
if, taught by thee, the poet's wit has flow'd
In ftrains as precious as his hero's blood ;
Preferve thofe ftrains, an everlafting charm
To keep that blood and thy remembrance warm ;
Be this thy guardian image ftill fecure.
In vain {hall force invade, or fraud allure ;
Our great Palladium {hall perform its part,
Fix'd and enfhrin'd in every Britifh heart.
[ 251 ]
UPON MR. ADDISON'S CATO.
T ONG had the Tragic Mufe forgot to weep.
By modern Operas quite lulPd afleep :
No matter what the lines, the voice was clear;
Thus fenfe was facrific'd to pleafe the ear.
At laft, * One Wit flood up in our defence.
And dar'd (O impudence !) to publifh — fenfe.
Soon then as next the juft tragedian fpoke.
The ladies figh'd again, the beaux awoke.
Thofe heads that us'd moil indolent to move
To fmg-fong, ballad, and fonata love.
Began their buried fenfes to explore.
And found they now had paffions as before :
The power of nature in their bofoms felt.
In fpite of prejudice compell'd to melt.
When Cato 's firm, all hope of fuccour pafl.
Holding his Ilubborn virtue to the lafl,
I view, with joy and confcious tranfport fir'd.
The foul of Rome in one great man retir'd ;
In him, as if fhe by confinement gain'd.
Her powers and energy are higher llrain'd
Than when in crowds of fenators fhe reign'd 1
Cato well fcorn'd the life that Ca^far gave.
When fear and weaknefs only bid him fave :
* The Spedlator.
a5» A D D I S O N'6 P O E M S.
But when a virtue like his own revives
The hero's conftancy — with joy he lives.
Obferve the juftnefs of the poet's thoughts,
Whofe fmalleft excellence is want of faults :
Without aiFeded pomp and noife he warms ;
Without the gaudy drefs of beauty charms.
Love, the old fubjedl of the bufkin'd Mufe,
Returns, but fuch as Roman virgins ufe.
A virtuous love, chaflis'd by pureft thought.
Not from the fancy, but from nature wrought.
Britons, with leffen'd wonder, now behold
Your former wits, and all your bards of old ;
Jonfon out-vy'd in his own way confefs ;
And own that Shakefpeare's felf now pleafes lefs.
While Phcebus binds the laurel on his brow.
Rife up, ye Mufes ; and, ye Poets, bow :
Superior worth with admiration greet.
And place him neareft to hh Phoebus' feat.
[ 253 ]
ON C A T O:
OCCASIONED BY
MR. ADDISON'S TRAGEDY OF THAT NAMEU
BY MR. COPPING.
TT I s ancient Rome by party-fadlions rent.
Long fince the generous Cato did lament ;
Himfelf united with his country's caufe.
Bravely refus'd to live, 'midfl dying laws.
Pleas 'd with returning liberty to come.
With joy the hero rifes from his tomb ;
And in Britannia finds a fecond Rome.
Till by repeated rage, and civil fires,
Th' unhappy patriot again expires ;
Weeps o'er her fate, and to the gods retires.
I
TO MR. ADDISON, ON HIS CATO.
(from Steele's collection.)
J s Britain refcued from th' Italian chain.
And the dear fong negle6led for thy ftrain ?
Are ev'n the Fair reclaim'd ? and dare they fit
Intent on Virtue, and be pleas'd with Wit?
What Mufe, but thine, could thus redeem our tafte.
With ihow deluded, and with found debas'd?
^54 A D D I S O N 's P O E M S;
Hard was the tafk, and worthy of your rage>
You feem the great Alcides of the age :
How glorioufly you rife in our defence ! •
Your caufe is Liberty ; your armour, Senfe ;
The brood of tuneful monllers you control.
Which fmk the genius, and degrade the foul :
Thofe foes to verfe you chace with manly arts.
And kindle Roman fires in Britifh hearts.
Oh ! fix, as well as raife, that noble flame :
Confirm your glory, and prevent our fhame.
The routed Opera may return again.
Seduce our hearts, and o'er our fpirits reign :
Ev'n Cato is a doubtful match for all.
And Right, oppreft with odds, again may fall ;
Let our juft fears your fecond aid implore.
Repeat the llroke, this Hydra fprings no more.
VERSES SENT TO A LADY, WITH THE