WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A
TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A
WHAT hopes what terrors does this gift create ?
Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
The myrtle (enfign of fupreme command,
Confign'd to Venus by Meliffa's hand)
Not lefs capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects a lover's prayer.
In myrtle fhades oft fings the happy swain,
In myrtle fhades defpairing ghosts complain.
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
The unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads,
Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,
And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.
Soon muft this fprig, as you fhall fix its doom,
Adorn Philander's head, or grace his tomb.
STELLA IN MOURNING.
WHEN lately Stella's form display'd
The beauties of the gay brocade,
The nymphs who found their power decline,
Proclaim'd her not so fair as fine.
"Fate! fnatch away the bright disguise,
"And let the goddefs truft her eyes."
Thus blindly pray'd the fretful fair,
And fate malicious heard the pray'r;
But brighten'd by the fable dress,
As virtue rifes in diftrefs,
Since Stella ftill extends her reign,
Ah! how fhall envy footh her pain?
Th' adoring youth, and envious fair,
Henceforth fhall form one common prayer;
And love and hate alike implore
The fkies" That Stella mourn no more."
To Lady FIREBRA CE,*
At BURY ASSIZES.
AT length muft Suffolk beauties fhine in vain,
So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain ?
Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire
Some zealous bard to wake the fleeping lyre;
For fuch thy beauteous mind and lovely face,
Thou feein'ft at once, bright nymph, a Mufe and Grace.
• This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Efq; of Ipfwich, and relict of Philip Evers, Efq. of that town; she became the fecond wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name, (to whom he brought a fortune of 25,000l.) July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Efq. uncle to the prefent Duke of Argyle, and died July 3, 1782.
To LY CE, an elderly Lady.
YE nymphs whom ftarry rays invest,
By flattering poets given,
Who shine by lavish lovers drest
In all the pomp of heaven,
Engrofs not all the beams on high,
Which gild a lover's lays,
fifter of the sky,
Let Lyce fhare the praise.
Her filver locks display the moon,
Her brows a cloudy show,
Striped rainbows round her eyes are seen,
And showers from either flow.
Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,
She's ftarr'd with pimples o'er ;
Her tongue like nimble lightning plies,
And can with thunder roar.
But fome Zelinda, while I fing,
Denies my Lyce fhines!
And all the pens of Cupid's wing
Attack my gentle lines.
Yet spite of fair Zelinda's eye,
And all her bards express,
My Lyce makes as good a sky,
And I but flatter lefs.
SPOKEN by MR. GARRICK,
At the Opening of the THEATRE ROYAL,
WHEN Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous
First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakespeare rose ;
Each change of many-colour'd life he drew,
Exhaufted worlds, and then imagin'd new:
Existence faw him fpurn her bounded reign,
And panting time toil'd after him in vain.
His powerful ftrokes prefiding truth imprefs'd,
And unrefifted paffion ftorm'd the breast.
Then Johnfon came, inftructed from the school,
To please in method, and invent by rule;
His ftudious patience and laborious art,
By regular approach, effay'd the heart:,
Cold approbation gave the lingering bays ;-
For those who durft not cenfure, scarce could praise.
A mortal born, he met the gen❜ral doom,
But left, like Egypt's kings, a lafting tomb.
The wits of Charles found eafier ways to fame, Nor wifh'd for Johnson's art, or Shakespeare's flame.Themselves they ftudied; as they felt, they writ:
Intrigue was plot, obfcenity was wit.
Vice always found a fympathetic friend;
They pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend.
Yet bards like thefe afpir'd to lafting praise,
And proudly hop'd to pimp in future days.
Their caufe was gen'ral, their fupports were strong
Their flaves were willing, and their reign was long :
Till fhame regain'd the poft that fenfe betray'd,
And virtue call'd oblivion to her aid.
Then crush'd by rules, and weaken'd as refin'd,
For years the pow'r of Tragedy declin'd;
From bard to bard the frigid caution crept,
Till declamation roar'd whilft paffion flept;
Yet ftill did virtue deign the ftage to tread,
Philofophy remain'd tho' nature fled.
But forc'd, at length, her ancient reign to quit,
She faw great Fauftus lay the ghost of wit ;
Exulting folly hail'd the joyous day,
And pantomine and fong confirm'd her sway.
But who the coming changes can presage,
And mark the future periods of the stage?
Perhaps if skill could diftant times explore,
New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in store
Perhaps where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet dy'd,
On flying cars new forcerers may ride;
Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance)
Here Hunt may box,
or Mahomet may dance.
Hard is his lot that here by fortune plac'd,
Muft watch the wild viciffitudes of taste;
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