The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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Verses, to the unknown Author of the Rover Reclaim'd;
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
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Verses, to the unknown Author of the Rover Reclaim'd;
written extempore, at the Rehearsal of that Play.
The low-brow'd muse, that gives malignance birth,
As oft excites our anger, as our mirth;
For gen'rous hearts would, usefully, correct,
Nor spare the fault, but still the man respect.
Touch'd, by a rev'rence, to the species due,
Fain would they laugh, without despising, too.
Rash, and by no such soft impressions, aw'd,
The scurril witling spreads his joke too broad:
Straining at humour, lets discernment fall,
And laughs at all, by turns, to laugh with all.
Not so, thy guardian scene—whose manlier end
Warring, on guilt—would innocence defend:
From the false Rover, strips his am'rous art,
That his true form may fright the fair one's heart,
And rescued beauty be, by one man, drest,
In arms of temper'd proof, against the rest.
As oft excites our anger, as our mirth;
For gen'rous hearts would, usefully, correct,
Nor spare the fault, but still the man respect.
Touch'd, by a rev'rence, to the species due,
Fain would they laugh, without despising, too.
Rash, and by no such soft impressions, aw'd,
The scurril witling spreads his joke too broad:
Straining at humour, lets discernment fall,
And laughs at all, by turns, to laugh with all.
Not so, thy guardian scene—whose manlier end
Warring, on guilt—would innocence defend:
From the false Rover, strips his am'rous art,
That his true form may fright the fair one's heart,
And rescued beauty be, by one man, drest,
In arms of temper'd proof, against the rest.
77
The
Loom thus fine, how hadst thou weav'd amiss,
To thread coarse laughter, thro' a theme, like this!
'Twere an affront to woman's worth! for here,
Not to be grave, were—not to be sincere.
Nor, let the taste of fools betray the wise,
A cheap applause, before a just, to prize.
Oft we approve, where, but to smile we seem;
But where we laugh the most, we least esteem.
This, the deserving purpose of thy play,
Compels a stranger's grateful verse, to say,
Who felt the pleasure, thousands soon will feel,
And judg'd it mean, that pleasure to conceal.
To thread coarse laughter, thro' a theme, like this!
'Twere an affront to woman's worth! for here,
Not to be grave, were—not to be sincere.
Nor, let the taste of fools betray the wise,
A cheap applause, before a just, to prize.
Oft we approve, where, but to smile we seem;
But where we laugh the most, we least esteem.
This, the deserving purpose of thy play,
Compels a stranger's grateful verse, to say,
Who felt the pleasure, thousands soon will feel,
And judg'd it mean, that pleasure to conceal.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |