 | A Collection of Original Poems |  |
To Mr. GENTLEMAN,
On reading his Play of Sejanus, inscribed to John Earl of Orrery.
'Tis thine, thou rising wonder of the age!
To banish dullness from the tortur'd stage;
To fill the scene with true poetic fire;
Fair virtue's gen'rous precepts to inspire;
Lash'd by thy pen, each hell-sprung vice shall fly,
Fast as fall vapours from an evening sky.
To banish dullness from the tortur'd stage;
To fill the scene with true poetic fire;
Fair virtue's gen'rous precepts to inspire;
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Fast as fall vapours from an evening sky.
When dread ambition swells Sejanus' breast,
Who does not weep for liberty opprest?
Madly aspiring, who but weeps, that he
With brutal force attacks ev'n royalty?
While injur'd Rome mourns her degen'rate race,
Who share his crimes,—their ancestry debase—
Dishonest statesmen canton out her pow'r,
Her fairest hopes destroy'd in one sad hour;
Who does not weep for liberty opprest?
Madly aspiring, who but weeps, that he
With brutal force attacks ev'n royalty?
While injur'd Rome mourns her degen'rate race,
Who share his crimes,—their ancestry debase—
Dishonest statesmen canton out her pow'r,
Her fairest hopes destroy'd in one sad hour;
So nipping eastern blasts at once consume,
The promis'd fruits of nature's early bloom:
But ripe with crimes, with pride and pomp elate,
When the swift whirl of still presiding fate,
Throws the fell monster from his tow'ring height;
Then pleasure sparkles in each honest eye,
And ev'ry free-born heart expands with joy.
The promis'd fruits of nature's early bloom:
But ripe with crimes, with pride and pomp elate,
When the swift whirl of still presiding fate,
Throws the fell monster from his tow'ring height;
Then pleasure sparkles in each honest eye,
And ev'ry free-born heart expands with joy.
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Britons, who in their happier soil behold,
Her high-rais'd banners liberty unfold;
Who feel the joys her influence bestows,
What sweet content from her protection flows,
Shall hail the happy bard, who wisely knew
To drag the traitor into public view;
To point the thunder at his impious head,
And strike th'aspiring bold offender dead.
Her high-rais'd banners liberty unfold;
Who feel the joys her influence bestows,
What sweet content from her protection flows,
Shall hail the happy bard, who wisely knew
To drag the traitor into public view;
To point the thunder at his impious head,
And strike th'aspiring bold offender dead.
Oh! ne'er, in Britain, may the wretch be found,
With rufsian hands who dare his country wound:
May freedom ever boast her lenient sway,
And only with a mouldring world decay.
With rufsian hands who dare his country wound:
May freedom ever boast her lenient sway,
And only with a mouldring world decay.
If rays so lively gild thy early morn,
What lustre must thy brighter noon adorn;
When he, whom wit, whom learning, virtue loves,
Judgment's true standard, Orrery approves!
What lustre must thy brighter noon adorn;
When he, whom wit, whom learning, virtue loves,
Judgment's true standard, Orrery approves!
| A Collection of Original Poems | |