Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,
And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart.
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,
The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
O wake the foul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in confcious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:
For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage,
Commanding tears to stream thro' ev'ry age;
Tyrants no more their savage nature kept,
And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move
The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;
In pitying Love, we but our weakness show,
And wild Ambition well deserves its woe.
Here tears shall flow from a more gen'rous cause,
Such Tears as Patriots shed for dying Laws:
He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise,
And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes.
Virtue confefs'd in human shape he draws,
What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was:
No common object to your fight displays,
But what with pleasure Heav'n itself surveys,
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
And greatly falling with a falling state.
While Cato gives his little Senate laws,
What bosom beats not in his Country's cause ?
Who fees him act, but envies ev'ry deed?
Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Ev'n when proud Cæfar, 'midst triumphal cars,
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,
Ignobly vain, and impotently great,
Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;
As her dead Father's rev'rend image paft,
The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'ercaft;
The Triumph ceas'd, tears gufh'd from ev'ry eye;
The World's great Victor pass'd unheeded by;
Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd,
And honour'd Cæfar's less than Cato's sword.
Britons, attend: be worth like this approv'd, And show, you have the virtue to be mov'd. With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd; Your
VER. 20. But what with pleasure] This alludes to a famous passage of Seneca, which Mr. Addison afterwards used as a motto to his play, when it was printed.
VER. 37. Britons, attend] Mr. Pope had written it arife, in the spirit of Poetry and Liberty; but Mr. Addison frightend at so daring an expression, which, he thought, squinted at rebellion, would have it alter'd, in the fpirit of Profe and Politics, to attend.
Your scene precariously subsists too long
On French translation, and Italian fong.
Dare to have sense yourselves; affert the stage,
Be justly warm'd with your own native rage:
Such Plays alone should win a British ear,
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.
VER. 46. As Cato self, etc.] This alludes to the famous story of his going into the Theatre, and imme diately coming out again.
Mr. ROWE'S JANE SHORE.
Designed for Mrs. OLDFIELD.
Prodigious this! the Frail-one of
From her own Sex should mercy find to-day!
You might have held the pretty head afide,
Peep'd in your fans, been serious, thus, and cry'd,
The Play may pass--but that strange creature, Shore,
I can't-indeed now-I so hate a whore-
Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull,
And thanks his stars he was not born a fool;
So from a fister sinner you shall hear,
"How strangely you expose yourself, my dear?"
But let me die, all raillery apart,
Our sex are still forgiving at their heart;
And did not wicked custom so contrive,
We'd be the best, good-natur'd things alive.
There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale,
That virtuous ladies envy while they rail;
Such rage without betrays the fire within;
In some close corner of the foul, they fin;
Still hoarding up, most scandaloufly nice,
Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice.
The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns,
Seolds with her maid, or with her chaplain crams.
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