University of Virginia Library

To Mr. Southerne, on his PLAY, call'd, The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery.

As when some Potentate, whose Princely Care
Governs with equal Reins, in Peace and War,
Drives gently on; and with an easie sway
Compels the Headstrong Subject to obey;
Admir'd by all, yet Grumbled at by some,
(For who e'er sate Unenvy'd on a Throne?)
At length, as Providence has made him Great,
So to make Perfect, what was not Compleat,
The joyful News of a Young Princes Birth,
Comes to fulfil an Universal Mirth:
Then the glad Realm, with Acclamations loud,
As well from Sages, as the common Croud,
Proclaims its Joy, whilst Ecchoes round repeat
The New-born Off-spring Beauteous, as 'tis Great.
Thus Sir amidst the mighty Shouts of Fame,
Which must attend on your Poetick Flame,
Suffer my feeble suffrage in the List;
The Mite was still a Gift, tho' not the Best.
Should I attempt to say what Praise is due,
'Twere to tell all, what they already knew
So fine your Passions; so sublime your Thought;
All, ev'ry part, so exquisitely wrote;
So short your Repartees, and yet so plain,
That Criticks lose their old accustom'd Aim.
Whilst others Blaze at distance, but when nigh
Afford not half the Pleasure to the Eye,
You, like a well-form'd Lamp, disperse your Rays
With equal Lustre, round, in ev'ry Place.
Great is our Joy, with wonder we look on,
To see so fine a Texture, yet so strong:
Whilst through the Theatres, the Court, and Town
Fame speaks aloud, and makes the Author known.
Southern!—the Guide, to lead us in the Right,
Great as our Wishes, as our Hopes Polite.
Southerne!—The Subject is too Infinite.