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Original poems on several subjects

In two volumes. By William Stevenson

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EPILOGUE On the same Occasion.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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235

EPILOGUE On the same Occasion.

If ever play an epilogue deserv'd,
For acting which from justness never swerv'd,
That now presented (cries some waggish elf)
Speaks with convincing merit for itself;
Though Charity the palm of virtues wins,
As she conceals a multitude of sins.
What native strokes of genius, to surprise
The most unthinking hearts, and careless eyes!
What easy attitudes! what graceful shapes!
Which self-vain affectation vainly apes.
What apt behaviour! what exact address!
As if it were not human to transgress.
How with the comic muse their bosoms burn'd!
With what just emphasis their periods turn'd!
Which show'd, beyond the strongest proofs of art,
True eloquence is seated in the heart.
Had present but the British Roscius been,
Their fine display of talents to have seen,

236

He had confess'd, though oft in boasts detected,
He never could, indeed, like them have acted.
From evils often of the largest size
Some accidental good we see arise.
Thus, in the midst of scarcity and need,
When universal famine seem'd decreed,
A set of worthies rose to our relief,
Dispell'd our fears, and mollify'd our grief.
Had plenty still charm'd our delighted sight,
We had not seen this matchless play to-night.
Ladies, your breasts with admiration mov'd,
Justly have you each actor's skill approv'd;
For only they so greatly could excel,
And only you distinguish worth so well.