 | The Tragedy of Zara |  |
To His Royal Highness the PRINCE.
SIR,
Writers
, who mean no Int'rest, but their Arts;
Of undepending Minds, and stedfast Hearts,
Disclaiming Hopes, will empty Forms neglect;
Nor need Permission—to address Respect.
Of undepending Minds, and stedfast Hearts,
Disclaiming Hopes, will empty Forms neglect;
Nor need Permission—to address Respect.
Frank, as the manly Faith of antient Time,
Let Truth, for once, approach the Great, in Rhime!
Nor Publick Benefit, misguided, stray,
Because a Private Wisher points its Way.
Let Truth, for once, approach the Great, in Rhime!
Nor Publick Benefit, misguided, stray,
Because a Private Wisher points its Way.
If wond'ring, here, your Greatness condescends
To ask, What's HE, who, thus, uncall'd, attends?
Smile, at a Suitor, who, in Courts, untrac'd,
Pleas'd, if o'erlook'd, thus, owns his humble Taste.—
To ask, What's HE, who, thus, uncall'd, attends?
Smile, at a Suitor, who, in Courts, untrac'd,
Pleas'd, if o'erlook'd, thus, owns his humble Taste.—
Vow'd an Unenvier, of the busy Great;
Too plain for Flatt'ry; and, too calm for Hate:
Hid to be Happy; who surveys, unknown,
The pow'rless Cottage, and the peaceless Throne,
A silent Subject to His own Controll:
Of active Passions, but, unyielding Soul;
Engross'd by NO Pursuits, amus'd, by All;
But, deaf, as Adders, to Ambition's Call:
Too Free, for Pow'r, (or Prejudice), to WIN,
And, safely, lodging Liberty, WITHIN.
Too plain for Flatt'ry; and, too calm for Hate:
The pow'rless Cottage, and the peaceless Throne,
A silent Subject to His own Controll:
Of active Passions, but, unyielding Soul;
Engross'd by NO Pursuits, amus'd, by All;
But, deaf, as Adders, to Ambition's Call:
Too Free, for Pow'r, (or Prejudice), to WIN,
And, safely, lodging Liberty, WITHIN.
Pardon, Great Prince! th'unfashionable Strain,
That shuns to Dedicate; nor seeks to gain:
That, (self-resigning) knows no narrow View;
And, but for Publick Blessings, courts, ev'n YOU!
That shuns to Dedicate; nor seeks to gain:
That, (self-resigning) knows no narrow View;
And, but for Publick Blessings, courts, ev'n YOU!
Late, a bold Tracer of your measur'd Mind,
(While, by the mournful Scene, to Grief inclin'd)
I saw your Eloquence of Eyes confess
Soft Sense of Belvidera's deep Distress,
Prophetic, thence, fore-deem'd the rising Years;
And hail'd a Happy Nation, in Your Tears!
(While, by the mournful Scene, to Grief inclin'd)
I saw your Eloquence of Eyes confess
Soft Sense of Belvidera's deep Distress,
Prophetic, thence, fore-deem'd the rising Years;
And hail'd a Happy Nation, in Your Tears!
Oh!—nobly, touch'd!—th'inspiring Pleasure chuse,
Snatch, from the sable Wave, the sinking Muse!
Charming, be charm'd! the Stage's Anguish heal:
And teach a languid People how to feel.
Snatch, from the sable Wave, the sinking Muse!
Charming, be charm'd! the Stage's Anguish heal:
And teach a languid People how to feel.
Then her full Soul, shall Tragic
Pow'r impart,
And reach Three Kingdoms in their Prince's Heart!
Lightness, disclaim'd, shall blush itself away:
And reas'ning Sense resume forgotten Sway.
Love, Courage, Loyalty, Taste, Honour, Truth,
Flash'd from the Scene, re-charm our list'ning Youth:
And, Virtues, (by Your Influence form'd) sustain
The future Glories of their Founder's Reign.
And reach Three Kingdoms in their Prince's Heart!
And reas'ning Sense resume forgotten Sway.
Love, Courage, Loyalty, Taste, Honour, Truth,
Flash'd from the Scene, re-charm our list'ning Youth:
And, Virtues, (by Your Influence form'd) sustain
The future Glories of their Founder's Reign.
Nor, let due Care of a protected Stage,
Misjudg'd Amusement, but spare Hours engage:
Strong, serious, Truths, the manly Muse displays;
And leads charm'd Reason thro' those flow'ry Ways.
While History's cold Care but Facts enrolls,
The Muse, (pervasive) saves the pictur'd Souls!
Beyond all Egypt's Gums, embalms Mankind:
And stamps the living Features of the Mind.
Misjudg'd Amusement, but spare Hours engage:
Strong, serious, Truths, the manly Muse displays;
And leads charm'd Reason thro' those flow'ry Ways.
While History's cold Care but Facts enrolls,
The Muse, (pervasive) saves the pictur'd Souls!
Beyond all Egypt's Gums, embalms Mankind:
And stamps the living Features of the Mind.
Time can eject the Sons of Pow'r, from Fame;
And, He, who gains a World, may Lose his Name.
But, cherish'd Arts insure immortal Breath:
And, bid their prop'd Defenders tread on Death!
And, He, who gains a World, may Lose his Name.
But, cherish'd Arts insure immortal Breath:
And, bid their prop'd Defenders tread on Death!
Look back, lov'd Prince! on Ages, sunk in Shade!
And feel, what Darkness, absent Genius made!
Think, on the dead Fore-fillers of your Place!
Think, on the stern First-founders of your Race!
And, where lost Story sleeps, in silent Night;
Charge to their want of Taste, their want of Light.
And feel, what Darkness, absent Genius made!
Think, on the dead Fore-fillers of your Place!
Think, on the stern First-founders of your Race!
And, where lost Story sleeps, in silent Night;
Charge to their want of Taste, their want of Light.
When, in your rising Grove, (no Converse nigh)
Black Edward's awful Bust demands your Eye,
Think, from what Cause, blind Chronicles DEFAME
The gross-told Tow'rings, of that dreadful Name!
Search him, thro' Fancy: and SUPPOSE him, shown
By the Long Glories, to the Muses known:
Shining, disclos'd;—o'ertrampling Death's Controll!
And, opening, backward, All his Depth of Soul!
Black Edward's awful Bust demands your Eye,
Think, from what Cause, blind Chronicles DEFAME
The gross-told Tow'rings, of that dreadful Name!
Search him, thro' Fancy: and SUPPOSE him, shown
By the Long Glories, to the Muses known:
Shining, disclos'd;—o'ertrampling Death's Controll!
And, opening, backward, All his Depth of Soul!
Then—breathe a conscious Sigh, to mourn his Fate,
Who form'd no Writers, like his Spirit, Great!
To limn his living Thoughts—past Fame renew;
And build Him Honours, they reserve, for You!
Who form'd no Writers, like his Spirit, Great!
To limn his living Thoughts—past Fame renew;
And build Him Honours, they reserve, for You!
I am,
With profound Respect,
SIR,
Your Royal Highness's
most humble
and obedient Servant,
A. HILL.
| The Tragedy of Zara | |