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Poems on Several Occasions

With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition
  

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On Shakespear's Monument.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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On Shakespear's Monument.

Old Homer's fancy'd Face, a Form unknown,
Survives in breathing Brass, or Parian Stone:
While of the Mind such Images remain,
We wish to raise the honour'd Shade again;
Immortal Wit compels us to admire
The Relique, rescu'd from devouring Fire.
Such Shakespear was; from hence Invention took
The studious Posture, and the piercing Look.
He, nobly bold, disdain'd the Bounds of Art;
And spoke the native Dictates of the Heart:
Cou'd paint the Softness of th' enamour'd Maid,
The jealous Lover to his Rage betray'd;
Cou'd trace the Passions to their secret Springs,
The Pride of Heroes and the Wrongs of Kings;
The Murth'rer's Guilt; and whisper in the Ear
What dire Ambition trembles but to hear.
Fairies and Ghosts obey'd his magic Wand;
And with new Beings fill'd an unknown Land:
Ev'n then he taught the visionary Throng
With useful Truth to moralize the Song.

136

Ye Kings who once our ancient Sceptre sway'd!
Tho' here in Dust your sacred Heads are lay'd,
Afford the Poet's Monument a Room,
Whose Muse recalls you from the silent Tomb.
At her Command majestic each appears,
To claim the loyal Tribute of our Tears:
The Waste of civil Fury to disclose,
Their mighty Triumphs and their mighty Woes.
When Princes fall, too great to fall alone,
We weep those Ills our Ancestors have done.
Such was the Bard; true to his Country's Cause,
He scorn'd to give successful Vice Applause.
Such may he still remain, thro' ev'ry Age,
With Patriot Virtue to inspire the Stage.

There is no genuine Picture of Shakespear. That called his was taken long after his Death from a Person supposed extremely like him; at the Direction of Sir Thomas Clarges.