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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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215

SCENE VIII.

Arsaces, Gotarzes, Barzaphernes and Officers, with Vardanes and Lysias, prisoners.
Arsaces.
Thanks to the ruling pow'rs who blest our arms,
Prepare the sacrifices to the Gods,
And grateful songs of tributary praise.—
Gotarzes, fly, my Brother, find Evanthe,
And bring the lovely mourner to my arms.

Gotarzes.
Yes, I'll obey you, with a willing speed.
[Exit Gotarzes]

Arsaces.
Thou, Lysias, from yon tow'r's aspiring height
Be hurl'd to death, thy impious hands are stain'd
With royal blood—Let the traitor's body
Be giv'n to hungry dogs.

Lysias.
Welcome grim death!—
I've fed thy maw with Kings, and lack no more
Revenge—Now, do thy duty Officer.

Officer.
Yea, and would lead all traitors gladly thus,—
The boon of their deserts.

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