Secure with peace, with competence to dwell,
While tutelary nations guard her cell.

Yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wise, ye brave!
'Tis yours to crown defert-beyond the grave.

PROLOGUE

TO THE COMEDY OF

THE GOOD-NATUR'D MAN. 1769.

PREST by the load of life, the weary mind

Surveys the general toil of human kind,

With cool fubmiffion joins the lab'ring train,
And focial forrow lofes half its pain;

Our anxious bard without complaint may share
This bustling feason's epidemick care;
Like Cæfar's pilot dignify'd by fate,

Toft in one common ftorm with all the great;
Diftreft alike the statesman and the wit,

When one a Borough courts, and one the Pit.
The bufy candidates for power and fame

Have hopes, and fears, and wishes juft the fame ;
Difabled both to combat, or to fly,

Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply.
Uncheck'd on both, loud rabbles vent their rage,
As mongrels bay the lion in a cage.

Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale,
For that bleft year when all that vote may rail;

Their schemes of fpite the poet's foes dismiss,
Till that glad night when all that hate may hifs.

"This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," Says fwelling Crispin, "begg'd a cobler's vote;" "This night our wit," the pert apprentice cries, "Lies at my feet; I hifs him, and he dies."

The great, 'tis true, can charm th' electing tribe,
The bard may fupplicate, but cannot bribe.
Yet judg'd by those whofe voices ne'er were fold,
He feels no want of ill-perfuading gold;
But confident of praife, if praise be due,
Trufts without fear to merit and to you.

1

PROLOGUE

TO THE COMEDY OF

A WORD

ΤΟ THE

WISE,

SPOKEN by Mr. HULL.

HIS night prefents a play which publick rage,

THIS

Or right, or wrong, once hooted from the stage+. From zeal, or malice, now no more we dread, For English vengeance wars not with the dead.

* Performed at Covent-Garden theatre in 1777, for the benefit of Mrs. Kelly, widow of Hugh Kelly, Efq. (the author of the play and her children.

Upon the first representation of this play, 1770, a party asfembled to damn it, and fucceeded.

A gene

A generous foe regards with pitying eye

The man whom fate has laid, where all muft lie.
To wit reviving from its author's duft,

Be kind ye judges, or at least be just.
For no renew'd hoftilities invade
Th' oblivious grave's inviolable fhade.
Let one great payment every claim appease,
And him who cannot hurt, allow to please;
To please by scenes unconfcious of offence,
By harmless merriment, or useful sense.
Where aught of bright, or fair the piece difplays,
Approve it only-'tis too late to praife.

If want of fkill, or want of care appear,
Forbear to hifs-the poet cannot hear.

By all like him must praise and blame be found,
At beft a fleeting gleam, or empty found.
Yet then shall calm reflection bless the night,
When liberal pity dignified delight;

When pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame,
And mirth was bounty with an humbler name,

STE

SPRING,

AN ODE.

TERN Winter now, by Spring reprefs'd,
Forbears the long continued ftrife ;

And Nature, on her naked breast,
Delights to catch the gales of life.
Now o'er the rural kingdom roves
Soft pleasure with her laughing train,
Love warbles in the vocal groves,
And vegetation plants the plain.
Unhappy whom to beds of pain,
Arthritick tyranny configns;
Whom fmiling nature courts in vain,
Tho' rapture fings and beauty fhines,

*

Yet tho' my limbs disease invades,
Her wings imagination tries,
And bears me to the peaceful shades
Where -'s humble turrets rife.

Here ftop, my foul, thy rapid flight,
Nor from the pleafing groves depart,
Where first great nature charm'd my fight,
Where wifdom firft inform'd my heart.

*The author being ill of the gout.

Here

Here let me thro' the vales pursue

A guide-a father-and a friend,
Once more great nature's works renew,
Once more on wisdom's voice attend.

From falfe careffes, causeless ftrife,
Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd;
Here let me learn the use of life,

When best enjoy'd-when most improv'd.

Teach me, thou venerable bower,
Cool meditation's quiet feat,
The generous fcorn of venal power,
The filent grandeur of retreat.

When pride by guilt to greatness climbs,
Or raging factions rush to war,
Here let me learn to fhun the crimes
I can't prevent, and will not share.

But left I fall by fubtler foes,

Bright wisdom teach me Curio's art,
The swelling paffions to compofe,
And quell the rebels of the heart.

MID SU M MER,

AN ODE.

PHOEBUS! down the western sky,
Far hence diffuse thy burning ray,

Thy light to diftant worlds fupply,

And wake them to the cares of day.