 | Lycidus |  |
102
On the Honourable Sir Francis Fane,
on his Play call'd the Sacrifice. by Mrs. A. B.
Long have our Priests condemn'd a wicked Age,
And every little criticks sensless rage
Damn'd a forsaken self-declining stage:
Great 'tis confest and many are our crimes,
And no less profligate the vitious times,
But yet no wonder both prevail so ill,
The Poets fury and the Preachers skill;
While to the World it is so plainly known
They blame our faults, with great ones of their own,
Let their dull Pens flow with unlearned spight
And weakly censure what the skilful write;
You, learned Sir, a nobler passion shew,
Our best of rules and best example too.
Precepts and grave instructions dully move,
The brave Performer better do's improve,
Ver'st in the truest Satyr you excel
And shew how ill we write by writing well.
This noble Piece which well deserves your name
I read with pleasure thô I read with shame.
The tender Laurels which my brows had drest
Flag, like young Flowers, with too much heat opprest.
The generous fire I felt in every line
Shew'd me the cold, the feeble, force of mine.
Henceforth I'le you for imitation chuse
Your nobler flights will wing my Callow Muse;
So the young Eagle is inform'd to fly
By seeing the Monarch Bird ascend the sky.
And thô with less success her strength she'l try,
Spreads her soft plumes and his vast tracks persues
Thô far above the towring Prince she views:
High as she can she'll bear your deathless fame,
And make my song Immortal by your name.
But where the work is so Divinely wrought,
The rules so just and so sublime each thought,
When with so strict an Art your scenes are plac'd
With wit so new, and so uncommon, grac'd,
In vain, alas! I shou'd attempt to tell
Where, or in what, your Muse do's most excel.
Each character performs its noble part,
And stamps its Image on the Readers heart.
And every little criticks sensless rage
Damn'd a forsaken self-declining stage:
Great 'tis confest and many are our crimes,
And no less profligate the vitious times,
But yet no wonder both prevail so ill,
The Poets fury and the Preachers skill;
While to the World it is so plainly known
They blame our faults, with great ones of their own,
Let their dull Pens flow with unlearned spight
And weakly censure what the skilful write;
You, learned Sir, a nobler passion shew,
Our best of rules and best example too.
Precepts and grave instructions dully move,
The brave Performer better do's improve,
103
And shew how ill we write by writing well.
This noble Piece which well deserves your name
I read with pleasure thô I read with shame.
The tender Laurels which my brows had drest
Flag, like young Flowers, with too much heat opprest.
The generous fire I felt in every line
Shew'd me the cold, the feeble, force of mine.
Henceforth I'le you for imitation chuse
Your nobler flights will wing my Callow Muse;
So the young Eagle is inform'd to fly
By seeing the Monarch Bird ascend the sky.
And thô with less success her strength she'l try,
Spreads her soft plumes and his vast tracks persues
Thô far above the towring Prince she views:
High as she can she'll bear your deathless fame,
And make my song Immortal by your name.
But where the work is so Divinely wrought,
The rules so just and so sublime each thought,
104
With wit so new, and so uncommon, grac'd,
In vain, alas! I shou'd attempt to tell
Where, or in what, your Muse do's most excel.
Each character performs its noble part,
And stamps its Image on the Readers heart.
In Tamerlan you a true Hero drest,
A generous conflict wars within his breast,
This there the mightyest passions you have shew'd
By turns confest the Mortal and the God.
When e're his steps approach the haughty fair
He bows indeed but like a Conqueror,
Compell'd to Love yet scorns his servial chain,
In spight of all you make the Monarch reign.
But who without resistless tears can see
The bright, the innocent, Irene die:
Axalla's life a noble ransom paid,
In vain to save the much-lov'd charming maid,
Nought surely cou'd but your own flame inspire
Your happy Muse to reach so soft a fire.
Yet with what Art you turn the pow'rful stream
When trecherous Ragallzan is the theam:
You mix our different passions with such skill,
We feel 'em all and all with pleasure feel.
We love the mischief, thô the harms we grieve,
And for his wit the villain we forgive.
A generous conflict wars within his breast,
This there the mightyest passions you have shew'd
By turns confest the Mortal and the God.
When e're his steps approach the haughty fair
He bows indeed but like a Conqueror,
Compell'd to Love yet scorns his servial chain,
In spight of all you make the Monarch reign.
But who without resistless tears can see
The bright, the innocent, Irene die:
Axalla's life a noble ransom paid,
In vain to save the much-lov'd charming maid,
Nought surely cou'd but your own flame inspire
Your happy Muse to reach so soft a fire.
105
When trecherous Ragallzan is the theam:
You mix our different passions with such skill,
We feel 'em all and all with pleasure feel.
We love the mischief, thô the harms we grieve,
And for his wit the villain we forgive.
In your Despina all those passions meet,
Which womans frailties perfectly compleat.
Pride and Revenge, Ambition, Love and Rage,
At once her wilful haughty Soul engage;
And while her rigid Honour we esteem,
The dire effects as justly must condemn.
She shews a virtue so severely nice
As has betray'd it to a pitch of vice.
All which confess a God-like pow'r in you
Who cou'd form woman to herself so true.
Which womans frailties perfectly compleat.
Pride and Revenge, Ambition, Love and Rage,
At once her wilful haughty Soul engage;
And while her rigid Honour we esteem,
The dire effects as justly must condemn.
She shews a virtue so severely nice
As has betray'd it to a pitch of vice.
All which confess a God-like pow'r in you
Who cou'd form woman to herself so true.
Live, mighty Sir, to reconcile the Age
To the first glories of the useful Stage.
'Tis you her rifl'd Empire may restore
And give her power she ne're cou'd boast before.
To the first glories of the useful Stage.
106
And give her power she ne're cou'd boast before.
| Lycidus | |