The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend:
Such age there is, and who shall wish its end?
Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings,
To prefs the weary minutes flagging wings;
New forrow rifes as the day returns,
A fifter fickens, or a daughter mourns.
Now kindred Merit fills the fable bier,
Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear.
Year chafes year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops fome joy from with'ring life away;
New forms arife, and diff'rent views engage,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage,
Till pitying Nature figns the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.
But few there are whom hours like these await,
Who fet unclouded in the gulphs of Fate.
From Lydia's monarch fhould the fearch defcend,
By Solon caution'd to regard his end,
In life's last scene what prodigies surprise,
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wife?
From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,
And Swift expires a driv❜ler and a show.
The teeming mother, anxious for her race,
Begs for each birth the fortune of a face:
Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring;
And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king.
Ye nymphs of rofy lips and radiant eyes,
Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise,
Whom joys with foft varieties invite,
By day the frolick, and the dance by night,
Who frown with vanity, who fimile with art,
And ask the latest fashion of the heart,
What care, what rules your heedlefs charms fhall fave,
Each nymph your rival, and each youth your flave?
Against your fame with fondnefs hate combines,
The rival batters, and the lover mines.
With diftant voice neglected Virtue calls,
Lefs heard and lefs, the faint remonftrance falls;
Tir'd with contempt, fhe quits the flipp'ry reign,
And Pride and Prudence take her feat in vain.
In crowd at once, where none the pass defend,
The harmless freedom, and the private friend.
The guardians yield, by force fuperior ply'd;
To Int'reft, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride.
Here Beauty falls betray'd, defpis'd, distress'd,
And hifing Infamy proclaims the reft.
Where then fhall Hope and Fear their objects find?
Muft dull Sufpenfe corrupt the ftagnant mind?
Muft helplefs man, in ignorance fedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
Muft no diflike alarm, no wishes rife,
No cries invoke the mercies of the fkies?
Enquirer, ceafe, petitions yet remain,
Which heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain. Still raife for good the fupplicating voice,
But leave to heav'n the measure and the choice.
Safe in his pow'r, whofe eyes difcern afar
The fecret ambush of a fpecious pray'r.
Implore his aid, in his decifions reft,
Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best.
Yet when the fenfe of facred prefence fires,
And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind,
Obedient paffions, and a will refign'd;
For love, which fcarce collective man can fill
For patience, fov'reign o'er tranfmuted ill;
For faith, that panting for a happier feat,
Counts death kind Nature's fignal of retreat:
These goods for man the laws of heav'n ordain,
Thefe goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain;
With these celeftial Wifdom calms the mind,
And makes the happiness fhe does not find.
PROLOGUE
SPOKEN by Mr. GARRICK,
At the Opening of the Theatre Royal, DRURY-LANE, 1747
HEN Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakespeare rofe; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhaufted worlds, and then imagin'd new: Existence law him fpurn her bounded reign, And panting time toil'd after him in vain. His powerful strokes prefiding truth imprefs'd, And unrefifted paffion ftorm'd the breast.
Then Jonfon came, inftructed from the fchoul, 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 durit not cenfure, fcarce could prae. 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 wish'd for Jonfon's art, or Shakespeare's flame. Themfelves they ftudied; as they felt, they writ: Intrigue was plot, obfcenity was wit. Vice always found a fympathetick friend; They pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend." Yet bards like thefe afpir'd to lafting praife, And proudly hop'd to pimp in future days. Their caufe was gen'ral, their fupports were ftrong; 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 stage 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 pantomime and fong confirm'd her fway.
But who the coming changes can prefage,
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;
With every meteor of caprice must play,
And chase the new-blown bubbles of the day.
Ah! let not cenfure term our fate our choice,
The stage but echoes back the publick voice;
The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give,
For we that live to please, must please to live.
Then prompt no more the follies you decry, As tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die;
* Hunt, a famous boxer on the stage; Mahomet, a ropedancer, who had exhibited at Covent-Garden theatre the winter before, faid to be a Turk.
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