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And, if one varied accent prove thy falsehood,
Or but one moment's pause betray confusion, The sultan comes, still gloomy, still enraged.
Those trembling limbs-Speak out, thou shiv'ring
The queen requested
MAHOMET.' Where's this fair traitress? Where's this smiling
Who? the dead Irene? mischief?
Was she then guiltless! has my thougbtless Whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind ?
rage Destroy'd the fairest workmanship of Heav'n!
Doom'd her to death unpity'il and unheard, Thine orders, mighty sultan! are perform’d,
Amidst her kind solicitudes for me! And all Irene now is breathless clay.
Ye slaves of cruelty, ye tools of rage,
[To Has. and Car. Ye blind officious ministers of fully, [der?
Could not her charms repress your zeal for murYour hasty zeal defrauds the claim of justice,
Could not hier pray’rs, her innocence, her tears, And disappointed vengeance burns in vain. I came to heighten tortures by reproach,
Suspend the dreadful sentence for an hour?
One hour had freed me from the fatal errour! And add new terrours to the face of death. Was this the majd whose love I bought with em
One hour had sar'd me from despair and mad. pire ? True, she was fair; the smile of innocence Play'd on her cheek-So shone the first apos- | Your fierce impatience forc'd us from your preIrene's chamber! Did not roaring Cali, [tate
sence, Just as the rack forc'd out his struggling soul,
Urg'd us to speed, and bade us banish pity, Name for the scene of death Irene's chamber ?
Nor trust our passions with her fatal charms. MUSTAPHA. His breath prolong'd but to detect her treason,
What hadst thou lost by slighting those comThen in short sighs forsook bis broken frame,
Well if a thousand lives like thine had perish'd; Decreed to perish in Irene's chamber !
Such beauty, sweetness, love, were cheaply There had she lull'd me with endearing false
With half the grov'ling slaves that load the globe. Clasp'd in her arms, or slumb'ring on her breast, And bar'd my bosom to the ruffian's dagger.
Great is thy woe! But think, illustrious sultan, SCENE XII.
Such ills are sent for souls like thine to conquer.
Shake off this weight of unavailing grief, HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, MURZA,
Rush to the war, display thy dreadful banners,
and lead thy troops victorious round the world. MURZA, Forgive, great sultan! that, by fate prevented,
Rubb'd of the maid with whom I wish'd to triI bring a tardy message, from Irene.
No more I burn for fame, or for dominion; Some artful wile of counterfeited love!
Success and conquest now are empty sounds,
Remorse and anguish seize on all my breast; Some soft decoy to lure me to destruction ! And thou, the curs'd accomplice of her treason
Those groves, whose shades embower'd the dear
Irene, Declare thy message, and expect thy doom.
(ties, Heard her last cries, and fann'd her dying beani.
Shall hide me from the tasteless world for ever. The
(Mahomet goes back and returns. queen requested that a chosen troop
Yet, ere I quit the sceptre of dominion, Might intercept the traitor Greek, Demetrius,
Let one just act conclude the bateful day. Then ling'ring with his captive mistress here.
Hew down, ye guards, those vassals of distraction,
[Painting to Hasan and Caraza.
Those hounds of blood, that catch the hint to
Bear off with eager haste th' unfinish'd sentence,
Then hear, great Mahomet, the voice of truth
EPILOGUE. Hear, shall I hear thee! didst thou hear Irene ?
3Y SIR WILLIAM YONGE.
MARNY a Turk! a baughty tyrant king!
Who thinks us women born to dress and sing
Let him persiade me to it-if he can :
Besides, he has fifty wives, and who can bear Thou might'st have liv’d, for thou had'st spar'd Tolare the fiftieth part her paltry share? Irene.
'Tis true the fellow's handsome, straight, and
tall, I heard her, pitied her, and wish'd to save her,
But how the devil should he please us all!
My pride's to have that little all my own.
Where woman's not allow'd to speak her mind.
I swear this eastern pageantry is nonsense, I heard, and soften'd, till Abdalla brought And for une man-one wife's enough of conHer fival doom, and hurried her destruction,
science. In vain proud man usurps what's woman's due,
For us alone, they honour's paths pursue : Abdalla brought her doom! Abdala brought it, Inspir'd by us, they glory's heights ascend; The wretch, whose guilt, declar'd by tortur'd woman the source, the object, and the end. Cali,
(brance: Though wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they reMy rage and grief had hid from my remem
ceive, Abdalla brought her doom !
These are all triftes to what we can give.
For us the statesman labours, hero fights,
Bears toilsome days, and wakes long tedious
nights; While yet she begg'd to plead her cause before And, when blest peace has silenc'd war's alarms, thee.
Receives his full reward in beauty's arms.
O seize me, madness-Did she call on me!
PROLOGUE My spirits fail, awhile support me, vengeance- SPOKEN BY MR. CARRICK, APRIL 5, 1750, Be just, ye slaves; and, to be just, be cruel ;
BEFORE THE NASQUE OF COMUS Contrive new racks, imbitter ev'ry pang,
ACTED AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE, FOR THS Inflict whatever treason can deserve,
NEFIT OF MILTON'S GRAND-DAUGHTER. Which murder'd innocence that call’d on me. [Exit Mahomet; Abdalla is dragged off. Ye patriot crowds, who burn for England's SCENE XIII.
Ye nymphs, whose bosoms beat at Milton's HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA.
Whose geu'rous zeal, unbought by Aattring MUSTAPHA tO MURZA.
Shames the mean pensions of Augustan times, What plagues, what tortures are in store for thee: Thou sluggish idler, dilatory slave!
Immortal patrons of succeeding days, Behold the model of cunsummate beauty,
Attend this prelude of perpetual praise;
Let wit, condemo'd the feeble war to wage Torn from the mourning Earth by thy neglect.
With close malevolence, or public rage,
Behold this theatre, and grieve no more.
(tell That mark'd my course, suspicious of my pur That never Britain can in vain excel;
This night, distinguish'd by your smiles, shall pose,
[arm’d, Rush'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and un
The slighted arts fulurity shall trust,
And rising ages hasten to be just.
At length our mighty bard's victorious lays
And bamed spite, with hopeless anguish dumb, So sure the fall of greatness, rais'd on crimes !
Yields to renown the centuries to come; So fix'd the justice of all-conscious Heav'n!
With ardent haste each candidate of fame, When haughty guilt exults with impious joy,
Ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name; Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy;
He sees, and pitying sees, vain wealth bestor, Weak man with erring rage may throw the Those pageant honours which he scorn'd belov, dart,
While crowds alott the laureat bust bebold, But Heav'n shall guide it to the guilty beart.
Or trace his forin on circulating gold
Unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay, From zeal or malice, now no more we dread,
For 110 renew'd hostilities invade
By harmless merriment, or useful sense. Yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wise, ye brave! Where aught of bright or fair the piece displays, 'Tis yours to crown desert--beyond the grave. Approve it only_tis too late to praise.
If want of skill or want of care appear,
Forbear to hiss—the poet cannot hear.
By all like him must praise and blame be found,
At best a fleeting gleam, or empty sound. TO THE COMETY OF THE GOOD-NATURED MAN,
Yet then shall calm reflection bless the night, 1769.
When liberal pity dignify'd delight; Prest by the load of life, the weary mind
When pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's fame, Surveys the gen’ral toil of human kind,
And mirth was bounly with an humbler name.
STERN Winter www by Spring repress'd,
Forbears the long-continued strife;
And Nature on her naked breast
Delights to catch the gales of life.
Now o'er the rural kingrom roves
Soft pleasure with the laughing train,
Love warbles in the vocal groves,
And vegetation plants the plain,
Unhappy! whom to beds of pain, Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale,
Arthr.tic tyranny consigus; For that blest year when all that vote may rail;
Whom smiling Nature courts in vain, Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss,
Though rapture sings and beauty shines. Till that glad night when all that hate may biss.
Yet though my limbs disease invades, " This day the powder'd curls and golden and bears me to the peaceful shades,
Her wings Imagination tries, coat,"
Where 's humble turrets rise. Says swelling Crispin, “ begg'd a cobbler's vote.' “This night our wit,” the pert apprentice cries, Here stop, my soul, thy rapid fight
Nor from the pleasing groves depart, “ Lies at my feet; I hiss him, and he dies." The great, 'tis true, can charm the electing Where first great Nature charm'd my sight,
Where Wisdom first inform'd my heart. tribe; The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe ;
Here let me through the vales pursue Yet, judg'd by those whose voices ne'er were sold,
A guide-a father and a friend, He feels no want of ill-persuading gold;
Once inore great Nature's works renew, But, confident of praise, if praise be due,
Once more on Wisdom's voice attend. Trusts without fear to merit and to you.
From false caresses, causeless strife,
Wild hope, vain fear, alike removed;
Here let me learn the use of life,
When best enjoy'd—when most improv'd.
Teach me, thou venerable bower, TO THE COMEDY OF A WORD 10 THE wise'. Cool meditation's quiet seat,
The gen'rous scorn of venal power,
The silent grandeur of retreat.
Here let me learn to shun the crimes 1 Performed at CoventGarden theatre in 1777, I can't prevent, and will not share. for the benefit of Mrs. Kelly, widow of Hugh But lest I fall by subtler foes, Kelly, esq. (the author of the play) and her Bright Wisdom, teach me Curio's art, children.
The swelling passions to compose, • Upon the first representation of this play, And quell the rebels of the heart. 1770, a party assembled to damn it, and succeeded.
1 The author being ill of the gout.
4 SPOKEN BY MR. HULL.
Oh! what remains, what lingers yet,
To cheer me in the darkening hour! The grape remains ! the friend of wit,
In love, and mirth, of mighty power. Haste-press the clusters, fill the bowl;
Apollo! shoot thy parting ray: This gives the sunshine of the soul,
This god of health, and verse, and day. Still still the jocund strain shall flow,
The pulse with vigorous rapture beat; My Stella with new charms shall glow,
And ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet.
O PH@BUS! down the western sky,
Far hence diffuse thy burning ray, Thy light to distant worlds supply,
And wake them to the cares of day, Come, gentle Eve, the friend of care,
Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night! Refresh me with a cooling air,
And cheer me with a larnbent light. Lay me, where o'er the verdant ground
Her living carpet Nature spreads; Where the green bower, with roses crown'd,
In showers its fragrant foliage sheds ; Improve the peaceful hour with wine,
Let music die along the grove ; Around the bowl let myrtles twine,
And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love. Come, Stella, queen of all my heart !
Come, born to fill its vast desires ! Thy looks perpetual joys impart,
Thy voice perpetual love inspires. Whilst all my wish and tbine complete,
By turns we languish and we burn, Let sigbing gales our sighs repeat,
Our murmurs-murmuring brooks return. Let me when Nature calls to rest,
And blushing skies the morn foretel, Sink on the down of Stella's breast,
And bid the waking world farewell,
No more the inorn, with tepid rys,
Unfolds the flower of various hue;
Nor gentle eve distils the dew.
Usurping darkness shares the day;
And Phæbus holds a doubtful sway. By gloomy twilight half reveal'd,
With sighs we view the hoary hill, The leafless wood, the naked field,
The snow-topt cot, the frozen rill. No music warbles through the grove,
No vivid colours paint the plain; No more with devious steps I rove
Through verdant paths now sought in rain. Aloud the driving tempest roars,
Congeal’d, impetuous showers descend; Haste, close the window, bar the doors,
Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend. In nature's aid let art supply
With light and heat my little sphere; Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high,
Light up a constellation here. Let music sound the voice of joy,
Or mirth repeat the jocund tale; Let Love his wanton wiles employ,
And o'er the season wine prevail. Yet time life's dreary winter brings,
When mirth's gay tale shall please no more ; No music charm-though Stella sings;
Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore. Catch, then, Oh! catch the transient bour,
Improve each monient as it flies; Life's a short summer-man a flower:
He diesmalas ! how soon he dies !
Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and Nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe. 'Twas Spring, 'twas Summer, all was gay,
Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow; The flowers of Spring are swept away,
And Summer-fruits desert the bough. The verdant leaves that play'd on high,
And wanton'd on the western breeze, Now trod in dust neglected lie,
As Boreas strips the bending trees. The fields that wav'd with golden grain,
As russet heaths, are wild and bare ; Not moist with dew, but drench'd with rain,
Nor Health, nor pleasure, wanders there. No more while through the midnight shade,
Beneath the Moun's pale oib I stray, Soft pleasing woes my heart invade,
As Progne pours the melting lay. From this capricious clime she soars,
Oh! would some god but wings supply ! To where each morn the Spring restores,
Companion of her flight I'd fly. Vain wish! me fate compels to bear
The downward season's iron reign, Compels to breathe polluted air,
And shiver on a blasted plain. What bliss to life can Autumn yield,
If glooms, and showers, and storms prevail; Aud Ceres flies the naked field,
And flowers, and fruits, and Phæbus fail?
THE WINTER'S WALK. Behold, my fair, where'er we rove,
What dreary prospects round us rise; The naked bill, the leafless grove,
The hoary ground, the frowning skies! Nor only through the wasted plain,
Stern Winter! is thy force confess'd; Still wider spreads thy horrid reign,
I feel thy power usurp my breast. Enliveoing hope, and fond desire,
Resign the heart to spleen and care ; Scarce frighted love maintains her fire,
And rapture saddens to despair.
in groundless hope, and causeless fear,
How passion's well-accordled strife Unhappy man! behold thy doom ;
Gives all the harmony of life ; Still changing with the changeful year,
Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, The slave of sunshine and of gloom.
Consistent still, though not the same; Tird with vain joys, and false alarms,
Thy music teach the nobler art,
To tune the regulated heart.
And screen me from the ills of life.
TO MISS *****
ON HER GIVING THE AUTHOR A GOLD AND SILK
TO STELLA. NET-WORK PURSE OF HER OWN Weaving'. Evening now from purple wings THOUGH gold ant silk their charms unite Sheds the grateful gifts she brings; To make thy curious web delight,
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,
Cooling breezes shake the reed ;
Shake the reed, and curl the stream Thy band, that knows the subtle art
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;
Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love. Thy nets may catch, but not confine;
Stella, thither let us stray,
Lightly o'er the dewy way.
Phæbus drives his burning car,
Hence, my lovely, Stella, far;
Round us pours a lambent light:
Light that seems but just to show
Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow.
Let us now, in whisperd joy,
Evening's silent hours employ,
Silence best, and conscious shades
Please the hearts that love invades,
Other pleasures give them pain,
Lovers all but luve disdain.
TO THE SAME.
Whether Stella's eyes are found
Fix'd on earth, or glancing round,
If her face with pleasure glow,
If she sigh at other's woe,
If her easy air express
Conscious worth, or soft distress,
Stella's eyes, and air, and face,
Charm with undiminish'd grace.
If on her we see display'd
Pendant gems, and rich brocade,
If her chintz with less expen se
Flows in easy negligence;
Still she lights the conscious flame,
Still ber charms appear the same;
If she strikes the vocal strings,
If she's silent, speaks, or sings,
If she sit, or if she move,
Still we love and still approve.
Vain the casual, transient glance,
Which alone can please by chance,
Beauty, which depends on art,
Changing with the changing heart,
Which demands the toilet's aid,
I those charms alone can prize
Which nur circumstance, nor dress, nies,