Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Like errant Dâmfels, boldly we engage,
Arm❜d, as you fèe, for the defenceless Stage.-
Time was, when this good Man no Help did lack
And fcorn'd that any She fhould hold his Back

But now, fo Age and Frailty have ordain'd,

*

By two at once he's forc'd to be fuftain'd.
You fee what Failing Nature brings Manto;
And yet let none infult, for ought we know,
She may not wear fo well with fome of you.
Tho' old, you find his Strength is not clean paft,
But true as Steel he's Mettle to the last.
If better he perform'd in Days of Yore,
Yet now he gives you all that's in his Pow'r ;
What can the youngest of you all do more?

What he has been, tho' prefent Praife be dumb, Shall haply be a Theme in Tifies to come,

As now

[ocr errors]

}

we talk of ROSCIUS, and of Rome. Had you with-held your Favours on this Night, Old SHAKESPEAR's Ghoft had risen to do him Right. With Indignation had you feen him frown Upon a worthless, witlefs, taftlefs Town; Griev'd and repining, you had hear'd him fay, Why are the Muses Labours caft away? Why did I write what only he could play?

But fince, like Friends to Wit, th

throng'd you meet,

Go on and make the gen'rous Work compleat;

* Mrs. Barry and Mrs. Bracegirdle clasp him round the Waste.

Be

Be true to Merit, and still own his Cause,
Find something for him more than bare Applaufe,
In just Remembrance of your Pleasures past,

Be kind, and give him a Discharge at last.
In Peace and Eafe Life's Remnant let him wear,
And hang his confecrated Buskin * here.

[merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors]

On the laft Judgment, and the Happinefs of the Saints in Heaven.

Done from the Latin of J. Gerhard.

'N that blefs'd Day, from ev'ry Part, the Juft,
Rais'd from the liquid Deep or mould'ring Dust,
The various Products of Time's fruitful Womb,
All of paft Ages, prefent and to come,
In full Affembly shall at once refort,

And meet within high Heaven's capacious Court:
There famous Names rever'd in Days of old,
Our great Fore-fathers there we shall behold,
From whom old Stocks and Ancestry began,,
And worthily in long Succeffion ran;

The reverend Sires with Pleasure shall we greet,
Attentive hear, while faithful they repeat
Full many a vertuous Deed, and many a noble Feat.
There all thofe tender Ties, which here below,
Or Kindred, or more facred Friendship know,
Firm, conftant, and unchangeable shall grow.
Refin'd from Paffion, and the Dregs of Senfe,
A better, truer, dearer Love from thence,
Its everlasting Being shall commence :

[ocr errors]

There, like their Days, their Joys shall ne'er be done,
No Night shall rise, to shade Heav'n's glorious Sun,
But one eternal Holy-Day go on,

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

To the Tune of, Grim King of the Ghosts.

D

Efpairing befide a clear Stream,

A Shepherd forfaken was laid; And while a falfe Nymph was his Theme, A Willow fupported his Head..

The Wind that blew over the Plain,

To his Sighs with a Sigh did reply; And the Brook, in return to his Pain, Ran mournfully murmuring by.

Alas, filly Swain that I was!

Thus fadly complaining he cry'd, When first I beheld that fair Face,

Twere better by far I had dy'd.

She talk'd, and I blefs'd the dear Tongue

When the fmil'd, 'twas a Pleasure too great.

I liften'd, and cry'd, when the fung,
Was Nightingale ever fo fweet?

[ocr errors]

How

How foolish I was to believe

She could dpat on fo lowly a Clown,
Or that her fond Heart would not grieve
To forfake the fine Folk of the Town?
To think that a Beauty so gay,

So kind and fo conftant would prove;
Orgo clad like our Maidens in Grey,
Or live in a Cottage on Love?

What tho' I have Skill to complain,

Tho'the Mufes my Temples have crown'd;
What tho' when they hear my soft Strain,
The Virgins fit weeping around.
Ah, COLIN, thy Hopes are in vain,
Thy Pipe and thy Lawrel refign;
Thy falfe one inclines to a Swain,
Whofe Mufick is fweeter than thine.

And you, my Companions fo dear,
Who forrow to fee me betray'd,
Whatever I fuffer, forbear,

Forbear to accufe the falfe Maid.

Tho' thro' the wide World I should range,
'Tis in vain from my Fortune to fly,
'Twas hers to be falfe and to change,
'Tis inine to be conftant and die.

If while my hard Fate I sustain,

In her Breaft any Pity is found,

Let her come with the Nymphs of the Plain,

And fee me laid low in the Ground.

[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »