 | Poems, dramatic and miscellaneous |  |
95
EPILOGUE.
Poets
and heroes travelling from home,
For perfect models, oft repair to Rome;
Yet real prowess, or true sterling wit,
Or genius there, they do not always hit.
For perfect models, oft repair to Rome;
Yet real prowess, or true sterling wit,
Or genius there, they do not always hit.
They had their bullies, sycophants and fools,
And learned dunces in Apollo's schools;
Their poetasters—pretty playful things,
Who, patroniz'd by ladies, or by kings,
By rules logistick, reason'd truth away,
And form'd new systems fit for each new day;
Zealots, or bigots to their fathers' creed,
As infidels, or fashion gave the the lead;
A proud republick, or a servile throng,
Aw'd by a frown, or by a Nero's song;
A celebrated, brave, heroick race,
They'd save, or sell their country, for a place.
For liberty—a poor unmeaning name,
They shook the globe, and set the world in flame;
But, factious, fickle, impious and bold,
Enervated by luxury and gold,
Ye've seen extinguish'd—great Apollo's fire,
Untun'd his harp, and broke his sacred lyre.
And learned dunces in Apollo's schools;
Their poetasters—pretty playful things,
Who, patroniz'd by ladies, or by kings,
By rules logistick, reason'd truth away,
And form'd new systems fit for each new day;
Zealots, or bigots to their fathers' creed,
As infidels, or fashion gave the the lead;
A proud republick, or a servile throng,
Aw'd by a frown, or by a Nero's song;
A celebrated, brave, heroick race,
They'd save, or sell their country, for a place.
For liberty—a poor unmeaning name,
They shook the globe, and set the world in flame;
But, factious, fickle, impious and bold,
Enervated by luxury and gold,
Ye've seen extinguish'd—great Apollo's fire,
Untun'd his harp, and broke his sacred lyre.
But in this age of literary claim,
When taste and genius vie with Roman fame,
Like them ye'll read, and candidly excuse
A piece design'd for pleasure or for use;
Though both the unities of place and time
May'nt always tally with the true sublime,
Nor buskin merit meet the mid day sky,
A female bard still asks your candid eye.
When taste and genius vie with Roman fame,
Like them ye'll read, and candidly excuse
A piece design'd for pleasure or for use;
Though both the unities of place and time
May'nt always tally with the true sublime,
Nor buskin merit meet the mid day sky,
A female bard still asks your candid eye.
96
Sure the politeness of an infant nation
Wont damn the play, and hiss it out of fashion;
At the first reading on a winter's eve
Pray cry encore—a second may retrieve,
And save her fame from ev'ry critick's rage
To tread securely on Columbia's stage.
Wont damn the play, and hiss it out of fashion;
At the first reading on a winter's eve
Pray cry encore—a second may retrieve,
And save her fame from ev'ry critick's rage
To tread securely on Columbia's stage.
No censuring bards, or little wits she fears,
If ye are pleas'd, and Peter Pindar spares.
If ye are pleas'd, and Peter Pindar spares.
The author asks but this small boon of you,
Pray let it pass at least a night or two;
And if the moral in this pious age
Should let it live a week upon the stage;
Some gambling fools by Maximus's fate
Might learn their follies ere it was too late.
Might stay at home and save their pretty spouses,
And borns prevent by lodging at their houses.
Others, by thinking, might be taught the odds,
'Twixt him who fears and him who blasts the gods;
Might choose to live and die a man of merit,
Ere he'd be damn'd—an infidel of spirit;
But, like Traulista's, let their follies end,
Who basely have betray'd or told a friend.
Pray let it pass at least a night or two;
And if the moral in this pious age
Should let it live a week upon the stage;
Some gambling fools by Maximus's fate
Might learn their follies ere it was too late.
Might stay at home and save their pretty spouses,
And borns prevent by lodging at their houses.
Others, by thinking, might be taught the odds,
'Twixt him who fears and him who blasts the gods;
Might choose to live and die a man of merit,
Ere he'd be damn'd—an infidel of spirit;
But, like Traulista's, let their follies end,
Who basely have betray'd or told a friend.
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