The Two Queens of Brentford : or, Bayes no Poetaster a Musical Farce, or Comical Opera |
VERSES Epistolary,
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 | The Two Queens of Brentford : or, Bayes no Poetaster |  |
VERSES Epistolary,
Humbly Dedicated with this Book, to the most Noble, his Grace, PHILIP, Duke, Marquis, and Earl of Wharton, Marquis of Winchendon, and Lord of Harleigh, Lord High Steward of Malmsborough, Marquis of Caterlough, Earl of Caterhaven, Baron of Trim, and one of the Lords of the Privy Council of Ireland.
Descend, great Peer, t'accept my Muses Strains,
And nobly grace my Lyrical Remains;
Let my Dramatick Whimsies entertain,
My Comick Tales too, please your sprightly Vein;
And then my Verse shall make me brisk and young
As Maro's once, who to Augustus sung.
And nobly grace my Lyrical Remains;
Let my Dramatick Whimsies entertain,
My Comick Tales too, please your sprightly Vein;
As Maro's once, who to Augustus sung.
In Verse, I then your artful Genius treat;
Verse, that I know, you can so well repeat,
With Skill superior, and with Cadence sweet;
That could from Pegasus a Pen be gain'd,
And from that soaring Plume your Praise extend,
I should your Fame in glorious Heights expose,
The Subject being much too great for Prose.
Verse, that I know, you can so well repeat,
With Skill superior, and with Cadence sweet;
That could from Pegasus a Pen be gain'd,
And from that soaring Plume your Praise extend,
I should your Fame in glorious Heights expose,
The Subject being much too great for Prose.
Sing then, Apollo, touch thy rapting Lyre,
And with thy Rays my mounting Thoughts inspire,
That Wharton's Worth may soar beyond the Sun,
Then be my Theme seraphick Winchendon;
Where if my happy Leaves are once turn'd o'er
To please my Patron with their Comick Store:
The Rural Gods that in that Garden rove,
Where beauteous Flora and her Sylvæ move;
The Walks, the Trees and Flowers can ne'er enjoy
With half the Deified Content as I.
And with thy Rays my mounting Thoughts inspire,
That Wharton's Worth may soar beyond the Sun,
Then be my Theme seraphick Winchendon;
Where if my happy Leaves are once turn'd o'er
To please my Patron with their Comick Store:
The Rural Gods that in that Garden rove,
Where beauteous Flora and her Sylvæ move;
The Walks, the Trees and Flowers can ne'er enjoy
With half the Deified Content as I.
Oh! great Vertumnus, God of Woods and Bowers,
Where Hero's and sweet Beauty wast their Hours,
And Wine do's often relish blest Amours;
That bringst the Hortans to their Gard'ning Skill,
Who Winchendon's rare Banks with Odours fill,
Sound Wharton's Name, who do's thy Palace raise,
A Dome for Gods alone to sound his Praise!
Fam'd
(Brimmer-Hall) for Beauty, Musick, Wit,
New form'd, and only for thy Godhead fit;
Command but the rare Tube which once I found,
Cælestial Spheres ne'er gave so sweet a Sound.
Where Hero's and sweet Beauty wast their Hours,
And Wine do's often relish blest Amours;
That bringst the Hortans to their Gard'ning Skill,
Who Winchendon's rare Banks with Odours fill,
Sound Wharton's Name, who do's thy Palace raise,
A Dome for Gods alone to sound his Praise!
New form'd, and only for thy Godhead fit;
Command but the rare Tube which once I found,
Cælestial Spheres ne'er gave so sweet a Sound.
'Tis thus, my Lord, you revel in the Grace
Of Art and Nature, in that glorious Place;
Nature, the Mast'ry of your Garden Shews,
And Art, your Books of Poetry expose;
When Latian Virgil gilds your Latin Stile,
And Britain's Shakespear, who adorns our Isle.
Of Art and Nature, in that glorious Place;
Nature, the Mast'ry of your Garden Shews,
And Art, your Books of Poetry expose;
When Latian Virgil gilds your Latin Stile,
And Britain's Shakespear, who adorns our Isle.
So thoughtful Atticus Rome's Court rever'd,
But Politicks incumbent seldom heard;
His Tongue ne'er us'd a flattering fond Debate,
His curious Garden was his Room of State;
And whilst dear Nature did gay Scenes express,
All Beaus and Belles were slighted like his Dress.
So you, great Sir, neglect that gaudy Train,
Your Wit is sparkling, but your Garb is plain.
But Politicks incumbent seldom heard;
His Tongue ne'er us'd a flattering fond Debate,
His curious Garden was his Room of State;
And whilst dear Nature did gay Scenes express,
All Beaus and Belles were slighted like his Dress.
So you, great Sir, neglect that gaudy Train,
Your Wit is sparkling, but your Garb is plain.
And as in Roman Dramma's of past Age,
When Roscius and Esopus trod the Stage;
Pomponius well could weigh each poinant Thought,
And they were by his judging Action taught:
Or as when Plautus, or smart Terence wrote,
That artful Bard would pierce each Distich thro',
And tell if Cadence, or the Wit was true;
But yet with Order, and such Calmness mov'd,
No Author e'er could feel he was reprov'd:
So you, my Lord, with Judgment right assign'd,
In our best Actors Grace and Error find;
Can tell where Shakespear do's like Jove appear,
And where he tumbles from his lofty Sphere.
In Poems too, what droop, and what excel,
And the Distinction with such Candor tell,
That Virgil would not be asham'd to soar,
Nor would Bathillus mean his Verse give o'er.
When Roscius and Esopus trod the Stage;
Pomponius well could weigh each poinant Thought,
And they were by his judging Action taught:
Or as when Plautus, or smart Terence wrote,
That artful Bard would pierce each Distich thro',
And tell if Cadence, or the Wit was true;
But yet with Order, and such Calmness mov'd,
No Author e'er could feel he was reprov'd:
In our best Actors Grace and Error find;
Can tell where Shakespear do's like Jove appear,
And where he tumbles from his lofty Sphere.
In Poems too, what droop, and what excel,
And the Distinction with such Candor tell,
That Virgil would not be asham'd to soar,
Nor would Bathillus mean his Verse give o'er.
To reach such Merit, God-like Verse should shine,
But pardon Failings in that vast Design,
And take (with Nobleness of Temper) mine.
But pardon Failings in that vast Design,
And take (with Nobleness of Temper) mine.
| The Two Queens of Brentford : or, Bayes no Poetaster | |