« VorigeDoorgaan »
HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack;
ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX,
MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
GOOD people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
From those who spoke her praise.
* This gentleman was educated at Trinity-college, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot-soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Vol. taire's Henriade.
The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor,
Who left a pledge behind. She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wondrous winning;
Unless when she was sinning.
With hoop of monstrous size;
But when she shut her eyes.
By twenty beaux and more;
When she has walk'd before.
Her hangers-on cut short all:
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in, sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say, That had she liy'd a twelvemonth more,
She bad not died to-day.
WEEPING, múrmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay.delight; Mira, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.
Yet why impair thy bright perfection,
Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Mira follow'd my direction,
She long bad wanted cause of fear.
ORATORIO. OF THE CAPTIVITY.
THE wretch condemn’d with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies;
Bids expectation rise.
Adorns and cheers the way:
Emits a brighter ray.
O MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain, To former joys, recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain! Thon, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Tby smiles increase the wretch's woe? And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.
Written and spoken by
THE POET LABERIUS,
A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CÆSAR FORCED
UPON THE STAGE,
Preserved by Macrobius.*
WHAT! no way left to shun th’inglorious stage,
And save from infamy my sinking age!
* This translation was first printed in one of our author's earliest works, 'The Present State of Learning in Earope,' 12mo. 1759.
Here then at once I welcome every shame,
PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE,
these bold times, when Learning's sons ex.
plore The distant climates, and the savage shore; When wise astronomers to India steer, And quit for Venus many a brighter here; While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling, Forsake the fair, and patiently-go simpling ; Our bard into the general spirit enters, And fits his little frigate for adventures. With Scythian stores and trinkets deeply laden, He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading : Yet, ere he lands, has order'd me before, To make an observation on the shore. Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost! This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast. Lord, what a sultry climate am I under! Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder :
[Upper gallery. There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em
(Pit. Here trees of stately, size, and billing turtles in 'em