 | The Siege of Babylon |  |
66
EPILOGUE Spoken by Statira.
Poets , like Gods, Create, what forms they please,Monarchs, and Mighty Heroes, kill with Ease,
And Murther'd Princes too, from Death, can raise.
We Live, and Dye, as pleaseth Mr. Bays.
At one House, I am, by Roxana, slain,
But see, at this, I am alive again,
And spite, of all her Cruelty, and rage,
I Live, am Queen, and Triumph, on the Stage.
The God-like Poet, Mortal Actors too,
Strive thus, with various Skill, to pleasure you,
They punish, they reward, they kill, they save,
And all to find out, what 'tis you would have,
For You—like Gods, like Goddesses you—sit,
To Judg our Actions, and the Poets wit,
And 'tis but just, all should to you submit,
Poets your Drudges, for you form a Play,
They shape, with artful Words; the senseless Clay,
And to the Image, a dead form they give,
But tis from you, it must its, Life receive,
You make both Poets, Plays, and Players, Live.
FINIS.
| The Siege of Babylon | |