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Juvenile poems on various subjects

With the Prince of Parthia, a tragedy
Godfrey, Thomas (1736-1763)

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[section]
  
ELEGY, To the Memory of Mr Thomas Godfrey.
  
ELEGY, to the Memory of the same.
  
The INVITATION. 1758.
  
VERSES
  
ODE ON FRIENDSHIP. 1758.
  
EPISTLE
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PASTORALS.
 1. 
I. To the same.
 2. 
II. To Dr. J--- K---sl---y, jun.
 3. 
III. To the Memory of General WOLFE, who was slain at the taking of QUEBEC.
  
A DITHYRAMBIC ON WINE.
  
The WISH.
  
A NIGHT-PIECE.
  
THE COURT of FANCY;
  
VICTORY.
  
A PARAPHRASE on the first PSALM.
  
A CANTATA, ON PEACE. 1763.
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SONGS.
 1. 
[I. The day was clos'd beneath the shade]
 2. 
[II. When in Celia's heav'nly Eye]
 3. 
III. To SYLVIA.
 4. 
[IV. Young Thyrsis with sighs often tells me his Tale]
 5. 
[V. O come to Misonborough's grove]
  
[VI. For Chloris long I sigh'd in vain]
  
VII. AMYNTOR.
  
THE ASSEMBLY OF BIRDS; from CHAUCER.
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THE PRINCE OF PARTHIA,
  
Advertisement.
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ACT I.
 1. 
SCENE I.
 2. 
SCENE II.
 3. 
SENE III.
 4. 
SCENE IV.
 5. 
SCENE V.
 6. 
SCENE VI.
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ACT II.
 1. 
SCENE I.
 2. 
SCENE II.
 3. 
SCENE III.
 4. 
SCENE IV.
 5. 
SCENE V.
 6. 
SCENE VI.
 7. 
SCENE VII.
 8. 
SCENE VIII.
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ACT III.
 1. 
SCENE I.
 2. 
SCENE II.
 3. 
SCENE III.
 4. 
SCENE IV.
 5. 
SCENE V.
 6. 
SCENE VI.
 7. 
SCENE VII.
 8. 
SCENE VIII.
 9. 
SCENE IX.
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ACT IV.
 1. 
SCENE I.
 2. 
SCENE II.
 3. 
SCENE III.
 4. 
SCENE IV.
 5. 
SCENE V.
 6. 
SCENE VI.
 7. 
SCENE VII.
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ACT V.
 1. 
SCENE I.
 2. 
SCENE II.
 3. 
SCENE III.
 4. 
SCENE IV.
 5. 
SCENE V.
 6. 
SCENE VI.
 7. 
SCENE VII.
 8. 
SCENE VIII.
 9. 
SCENE IX.
 10. 
SCENE the Last.

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210

SCENE II.

Vardanes, Evanthe, and Lysias.
Lysias.
Arm, arm, my Lord!—

Vardanes.
Damnation! why this interruption now?—

Lysias.
Oh! arm! my noble Prince, the foe's upon us.
Arsaces, by Barzaphernes releas'd,
Join'd with the citizens, assaults the Palace,
And swears revenge for Artabanus' death.

Vardanes.
Ha! what? revenge for Artabanus' death?—
'Tis the curse of Princes that their counsels,
Which should be kept like holy mysteries,
Can never rest in silent secrecy.
Fond of employ, some cursed tattling tongue
Will still divulge them.

Lysias.
Sure some fiend from hell,
211

In mischief eminent, to cross our views,
Has giv'n th' intelligence, for man could not.

Evanthe.
Oh! ever blest event!—All-gracious heav'n!
This beam of joy revives me.

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