University of Virginia Library

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. Pritchard.
A king in bloom of youth, for freedom die!
Our bard, tho' bold, durst not have soar'd so high.
This is no credulous admiring age;
But sacred sure the faith of Plutarch's page.
In simple stile that antient sage relates
The tale of Sparta, chief of Grecian states:
Eight hundred years it flourish'd, great in arms,
On dangers rose, and grew amidst alarms.
Of Sparta's triumph you have heard the cause,
More strong, more noble than Lycurgus' laws:
How Spartan Dames, by glory's charms inspir'd,
The son, the lover, and the husband fir'd.
Ye Fair of Britain's isle, which justly claims
The Grecian title, land of lovely dames,
In Britain's cause exert your matchless charms,
And rouse your lovers to the love of arms.
Hid, not extinct, the spark of valour lies;
Your breath shall raise it flaming to the skies.
Now Mars his bloody banner hangs in air,
And bids Britannia's sons for war prepare.
Let each lov'd maid, each mother bring the shield,
And arm their country's champions for the field.
Arm'd and inflam'd each British breast shall burn,
No youth unlaurel'd shall to you return.
Then shall we cease t'exult at trophies won,
In glory's field, by Heroes—not our own.
France yet shall tremble at the British sword,
And dread the Vengeance of her antient Lord.