Poems on Several Occasions With some Select Essays in Prose. In Two Volumes. By John Hughes; Adorn'd with Sculptures |
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TO THE Author of Fatal Friendship, A Tragedy. |
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
TO THE Author of Fatal Friendship, A Tragedy.
As when Camilla once, a warlike Dame,
In bloody Battles won immortal Fame,
Forsook her Female Arts, and chose to bear
The pond'rous Shield, and heave the massy Spear,
Superior to her Sex; so swift she flew
Around the Field, and such vast Numbers slew,
That Friends and Foes, alike surpris'd, behold
The brave Virago desperately bold,
And thought Her Pallas in a human Mold.
Such is our Wonder, matchless Maid! to see
The Tragic Laurel thus deserv'd by Thee.
In bloody Battles won immortal Fame,
Forsook her Female Arts, and chose to bear
The pond'rous Shield, and heave the massy Spear,
Superior to her Sex; so swift she flew
Around the Field, and such vast Numbers slew,
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The brave Virago desperately bold,
And thought Her Pallas in a human Mold.
Such is our Wonder, matchless Maid! to see
The Tragic Laurel thus deserv'd by Thee.
Still greater Praise is yours; Camilla shines
For ever bright in Virgil's sacred Lines,
You in your Own.—
Nor need You to another's Bounty owe,
For what yourself can on yourself bestow;
So Monarchs in full Health are wont to rear,
At their own Charge, their future Sepulcher.
For ever bright in Virgil's sacred Lines,
You in your Own.—
Nor need You to another's Bounty owe,
For what yourself can on yourself bestow;
So Monarchs in full Health are wont to rear,
At their own Charge, their future Sepulcher.
Who Thy Perfections fully wou'd commend,
Must think how Others their vain Hours mispend,
In trifling Visits, Pride, Impertinence,
Dress, Dancing, and Discourse devoid of Sense;
To twirl a Fan, to please some foolish Beau,
And sing an empty Song, the most they know;
In Body weak, more impotent of Mind.
Thus some have represented Woman-kind.
But You, your Sex's Champion, are come forth
To fight their Quarrel, and assert their Worth;
Our Salick Law of Wit you have destroy'd,
Establish'd Female Claim, and triumph'd o'er our Pride
While we look on, and with repining Eyes
Behold you bearing off so rich a Prize,
Spite of Ill-nature, we are forc'd t'approve
Such dazzling Charms, and spite of Envy love.
Must think how Others their vain Hours mispend,
In trifling Visits, Pride, Impertinence,
Dress, Dancing, and Discourse devoid of Sense;
To twirl a Fan, to please some foolish Beau,
And sing an empty Song, the most they know;
In Body weak, more impotent of Mind.
Thus some have represented Woman-kind.
But You, your Sex's Champion, are come forth
To fight their Quarrel, and assert their Worth;
Our Salick Law of Wit you have destroy'd,
Establish'd Female Claim, and triumph'd o'er our Pride
While we look on, and with repining Eyes
Behold you bearing off so rich a Prize,
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Such dazzling Charms, and spite of Envy love.
Nor is this all th'Applause that is your Due,
You stand the first of Stage-Reformers too;
No vicious Strains pollute your moral Scene,
Chaste are your Thoughts, and your Expression clean;
Strains such as yours the strictest Test will bear,
Sing boldly then, nor busy Censure fear,
Your Virgin Voice offends no Virgin Ear.
Proceed, in Tragick Numbers to disclose
Strange Turns of Fate, and unexpected Woes.
Reward, and punish! awfully dispense
Heav'n's Judgments, and declare a Providence.
Nor let the Comic Muse your Labours share,
'Tis Meanness, after this, the Sock to wear:
Tho' That too merit Praise, 'tis nobler Toil
T'extort a Tear, than to provoke a Smile.
What Hand, that can design a History,
Wou'd copy Low-Land Boors at Snic-a-Snee?
You stand the first of Stage-Reformers too;
No vicious Strains pollute your moral Scene,
Chaste are your Thoughts, and your Expression clean;
Strains such as yours the strictest Test will bear,
Sing boldly then, nor busy Censure fear,
Your Virgin Voice offends no Virgin Ear.
Proceed, in Tragick Numbers to disclose
Strange Turns of Fate, and unexpected Woes.
Reward, and punish! awfully dispense
Heav'n's Judgments, and declare a Providence.
Nor let the Comic Muse your Labours share,
'Tis Meanness, after this, the Sock to wear:
Tho' That too merit Praise, 'tis nobler Toil
T'extort a Tear, than to provoke a Smile.
What Hand, that can design a History,
Wou'd copy Low-Land Boors at Snic-a-Snee?
Accept this Tribute, Madam, and excuse
The hasty Raptures of a Stranger Muse.
The hasty Raptures of a Stranger Muse.
1698.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |