of ftates and republics; and tumults in kingdoms are scarce attended with greater confufion than riots at the Playhouse. On these occafions great patriots, theatrical and political, chiefly fhew themselves. Hampden, who oppofed fhipmoney, is not more celebrated than Thady Fitzpatrick, who demolished fall-price. The following poem is a parody on that celebrated ode of Dryden's, which that great orator, Mr. Sheridan, has fo often recited with uncommon applaufe at Spring-gardens, Pewterers'-hall, Drury-lane Theatre, Oxford, Cambridge, and Bath; and I moft heartily wifh, that it were in my power to prevail with that Gentleman to employ his noble powers of elocution on the following parody.

FITZGIG's TRIUMPH;

OR, THE POWER OF RIOT:

A N

O DE,

IN HONOUR OF THE 25TH AND 26TH OF JANUARY; AND THE 24TH OF FEBRUARY, 1763.

BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

'TWAS at the rabble rout, when Mima won Thro' Fizgig Fizgig's fon!"

Below in aukward state

The bluft'ring ruffian fate

On his audacious throne ;

His noify peers were plac'd around, 'Their brows with malice and with rapine frown'd, So footpads in the dark are found! The blarneying Burky by his fide, In impudence and ignorance »lly'd, With brazen front was feen in riot's pride,. Shameless, shameless, fhameless pair, Well do your heads your hearts declare !

Our Garrick's voice on high

A while the rout confounds,

He runs with rapid skill thro' elocution's bounds;

The

See the character of Fitzgig, drawn at length in Churchill's Rofciad.

The lofty founds ascend the sky,
And in the fons of poetry
Celestial joys infpire!

From Shakespear's felf the lore he caught,
From him the glowing pow'r possest, ·

Who gaz'd on Nature's charms with eager ardour fraught,

And to her pliant form with warmth refiftless preft, (Extatic warmth, by which his lays

Have been deriv'd to modern days !) Then, while he fought her lovely breast, While round her yielding waift he curl'd, He ftamp'd an image of himfelf-a Garrick for the world.

The sons of taste admire the lofty found;
A prefent Shakespear--hark! they fhout
around,

A prefent Shakespear-hark! the vaulted roofs

rebour...

With dubious fears

The General hears,

Affumes the rod,

The critic nod,

And shakes his Midas' ears.

Thalia's beauties then the mighty mafter drew,

Thalia, ever fair and ever new.

" See

"See the pleafing nymph advance,"
"Breathe the flute, and lead the dance.”
Flush'd with bewitching grace,

She fhews her lovely Face.

While the prevailing verse he strives to raise,
And bids defcriptive pow'r grow lavish in her
praise.

Thalia, ever fair and young,
Mirthsome joys did first ordain ;
Thalia's bleffings are a treasure,
Never-fating stream of pleasure,

from charmed cup,

O'er the fouls, "who've ta’en their freedom up.”

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,

To fouls, "who've ta'en their freedom up." Vex'd at the found, the General's pride wax'd low, Too weak to ward off Reason's blow;

Yet thrice he drown'd fair Juftice' voice, yet thrice bawl'd

YES, or NO!

The mafter saw the madness rise,
His fwelling cheeks, his envious eyes,
And, while he heav'n and earth defy'd,

His ready hand he chang'd, and try'd to check

his pride.

He

He chofe the mournful Mufe,
Soft pity to infuse;

He fung Melpomene divine,
By too severe a fate,
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from her high eftate,
Dethron'd by Pantomime!

Deserted in her utmost need
By those her facred labours fed,
On the bare flage distrest she lies,
With not a friend to bid her rife.

With downcast looks the joyless Gen'ral fate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various merits of the stage,
And now and then a groan he stole,
And fhouts began to rage.

BEARD, fweet musician, then essay'd
The pow'r of harmony to prove,

To poetry a kindred aid,

With pity melting as with love!

Softly fweet in Lydian measures,
He try'd to footh his foul to pleafures:
Jars, he fung, are toil and trouble,

Faction a misleading bubble,

--Path