A collection of poems on various subjects including the theatre, a didactic essay; in the course of which are pointed out, the rocks and shoals to which deluded adventurers are inevitably exposed. Ornamented with cuts and illustrated with notes, original letters and curious incidental anecdotes [by Samuel Whyte] |
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OCCASIONAL EPILOGUE, TO TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA,
FRIDAY, JUNE IIND, MDCCXCI. SPOKEN BY THE YOUNG HEROINE OF THE NIGHT, FOR HER OWN BENEFIT. |
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 | A collection of poems on various subjects |  |
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OCCASIONAL EPILOGUE, TO TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA, FRIDAY, JUNE IIND, MDCCXCI. SPOKEN BY THE YOUNG HEROINE OF THE NIGHT, FOR HER OWN BENEFIT.
Custom, the tyrant of each servile fool,
Seems to have made it an establish'd rule,
That something flippant, jocular, and gay,
By way of Epilogue should grace the play.
Authors and actors, in or out of season,
Step forth in rhyme—no matter for the reason,
And oft, a practice which defies excuse,
With pertness treat you, sometimes with abuse:
Conceit for sense, scurrility for wit,
Pleas'd or not pleas'd, to hear you must submit,
And, what's yet worse, a woman must rehearse,
At decency's expence, the fulsome verse.
Seems to have made it an establish'd rule,
That something flippant, jocular, and gay,
By way of Epilogue should grace the play.
Authors and actors, in or out of season,
Step forth in rhyme—no matter for the reason,
And oft, a practice which defies excuse,
With pertness treat you, sometimes with abuse:
Conceit for sense, scurrility for wit,
Pleas'd or not pleas'd, to hear you must submit,
And, what's yet worse, a woman must rehearse,
At decency's expence, the fulsome verse.
Not with coarse jests to wound the modest ear
Your little Protegé presumes to appear;
She has been taught, and thinks it is a sin,
To sacrifice decorum for a grin.
Your present favours and your past review'd,
She fain would show, excite her gratitude,
Conscious the generous plaudits you bestow,
More to your kindness than myself I owe.
Your little Protegé presumes to appear;
She has been taught, and thinks it is a sin,
To sacrifice decorum for a grin.
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She fain would show, excite her gratitude,
Conscious the generous plaudits you bestow,
More to your kindness than myself I owe.
Hard is the task, and oft essay'd in vain,
The approbation of the town to gain;
But by experience I may truly tell,
In candour and good-nature you excel.
You took me up, I glory in the hour,
Just budding into life, a tender flower;
And in the bosom of this warm parterre,
My place assign'd, you bade me flourish there.
Whatever clouds alarm my pensive breast,
What doubts soe'er perplex or cares molest,
The evening's gladsome eye my spirit cheers,
And hope prompts rapture in a night of tears.—
Why should I fear my feelings to express,
When you protect me, and award success;
If in the end I answer not the toil,
All must condemn the culture, not the soil:
'Tis yours to call the sparks of genius forth,
To silence cavil, and conciliate worth;
My ardent hope is, if to fame I rise,
To blow beneath the sunshine of your eyes.
The approbation of the town to gain;
But by experience I may truly tell,
In candour and good-nature you excel.
You took me up, I glory in the hour,
Just budding into life, a tender flower;
And in the bosom of this warm parterre,
My place assign'd, you bade me flourish there.
Whatever clouds alarm my pensive breast,
What doubts soe'er perplex or cares molest,
The evening's gladsome eye my spirit cheers,
And hope prompts rapture in a night of tears.—
Why should I fear my feelings to express,
When you protect me, and award success;
If in the end I answer not the toil,
All must condemn the culture, not the soil:
'Tis yours to call the sparks of genius forth,
To silence cavil, and conciliate worth;
My ardent hope is, if to fame I rise,
To blow beneath the sunshine of your eyes.
| A collection of poems on various subjects | |