Should ye once hiss, poor man, he dies away, And therefore humbly hopes to gain your vote Athens and Rome, the Stagirite, old Ben, Rules, nature, strength, truth, greatness, taste, and art, &c. &c. &c. I cannot, will not bear it.-O my fair, Say, can a father's harsh commands control- The merchant, thus, &c. [Exeunt severally, languishing at each other. FATAL CONSTANCY. ACT I. A Room of State. THE HERO AND HIS FRIEND MEETING. [If this manner of opening the play, though almost universally practised, should be thought too simple and unaffecting, the curtain may rise slowly to soft music, and discover the hero in a reclining pensive ACT III. The Palmy Grove. THE HERO, Solus. posture, who, upon the entrance of his friend, and NIGHT, black-brow'd Night, queen of the ebon wand, the ceasing of the symphony, may start from his couch, and come forward.] WELCOME, my friend; thy absence long has torn And dost thou yield? Ye waters, gently glide; Now o'er the world has spread her solemn reign. [love, She comes; quick let us haste away. The guards pursue us? Heavens!-Come then, my Fly, fly this moment. [Here a long conference upon love, virtue, the Moon, &c. till the guards come up. -Dogs, will ye tear her from me? Ye must not, shall not-O, my heart-strings crack, My head turns round, my starting eye-balls hang Upon her parting steps-I can no more. So the first man, from Paradise exil'd, With fond reluctance leaves the blooming wild: Around the birds in pleasing concert sing, Beneath his feet th' unbidden flow'rets spring; On verdant hills the flocks unnumber'd play, Through verdant vales meand'ring rivers stray; Blossoms and fruits at once the trees adorn, Eternal roses bloom on every thorn, And join Pomona's lap to Amalthea's horn. [Exeunt, torn off on different sides. ACT IV. A Prison. THE HERO, IN CHAINS. YE deep dark dungeons, and hard prison walls, On the reviving world. Thou faithful fair! Yet come, O come! Tell our sad story to the weeping world. THE MORAL. Nor erring mortals hope true joys to prove, What say'st thou? Force thee to it! Let cruel fathers learn from woes like these Thy father force thee to Orosius' arms! To wed their daughters where those daughters He cannot, will not, shall not.-O my brain! please. Darkness and devils! Burst my bonds, ye powers, That I may tear him piecemeal from the Earth, And scatter him to all the winds of Heaven. -What means that bell?-O'tis the sound of death. Alas, I had forgot I was to die! Let me reflect on death, &c. But what is death, Racks, tortures, burning pincers, floods of fire, EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY LINDAMIRA. STRANGE rules, good folks! these poets are so nice, I'll swear I thought it hard, and think so still, But you, ye fair and brave, for virtue's sake, ACT V. The Area before the Palace. THE HERO, AND soldiers. I THANK you, friends; I thank you, fellow-soldiers: Ye gave me liberty, ye gave me life. O, I have search'd in vain the palace round, Ha! by Heaven she comes! Distraction! No, He could not dare it. What, this dreadful night, Thou shalt not die! O wrest the dagger from her. Ha! the king! But let him come; I am beyond his reach, About the year 963, Ottoberto, of the family of Este, passed from Italy into Germany with the emperor Otho the Great. Azo, his descendant in the next century, by a marriage with the daughter of Welfus, count Altdorf, inherited the dominions of that family in Suabia. Welfus, a son of that marriage, received the dukedom of Bavaria from the emperor Henry the Fourth, in 1061. The descendants of Welfus became afterwards possessed of all those dutchies which lie between the Elbe and the Weser (Brunswick, Wolfenbuttle, Lunenburg, Zell, Hanover, &c.) and in the year 1714, George the First, duke and elector of Hanover, succeeded to the throne of Great Britain. WHEN Othbert left th' Italian plain, (Whose piny summits nod with snow, ' George the Second. "Hail, all hail," the woods reply'd, And Echo on her airy tide Roll'd the long murmurs down the mountain's side. The voice resum'd again: "Proceed, Nor cast one ling'ring look behind; By those who toil for virtue's meed Be every softer thought resign'd; Nor glowing suns, are worth thy care: Thee and thy chosen race from Azo's nuptial tie. ""T is glory wakes; her active flame Athwart the twilight veil of eve, Till regions bow to their commands "Nor rest they there. Yon guiding fire Still shines aloft, and gilds the main ! Not Lion Henry's 3 fond desire To grasp th' Italian realms again, Nor warring winds, nor wintry seas, Shall stop the progress Fate decrees; For lo! Britannia calls to happier coasts, And vales more verdant far than soft Atesté boasts. "Behold, with euphrasy I clear Where, crown'd with rocks grotesque and steep, To the first title Fate can give, The father-kings of free-born men' Proceed; rejoice; descend the vale, And bid the future monarchs hail !" "Hail, all hail," the hero cried; And Echo on her airy tide Pursued him, murmuring down the mountain's side. 'T was thus, O king, to heroes old The mountains breath'd the strain divine, Ere yet her volumes Fame unroll'd To trace the wonders of thy line; 2 Bavaria. 3 Henry the Lion, duke of Bavaria, Saxony, &c. was one of the greatest heroes of the twelfth century. He united in his own person the hereditary dominions of five families. His claims upon Italy hindered him from joining with the emperor Frederic the First, in his third attack upon the pope, though he had assisted him in the two former; for which he was stripped of his dominions by that emperor, and died in 1195, possessed only of those dutchies which lie between the Elbe and the Weser. From this Henry, and a daughter of Henry the Second of England, his present majesty is lineally descended. YE guardian powers, to whose command, To watch o'er Albion's favour'd land, Applausive hail'd each verdant steep, And white rock, glittering to the new-born day! Angelic bands, where'er ye rove Whilst lock'd in sleep creation lies: You melt the congregated skies, Already Albion's lifted spear, And rolling thunders of the main, Which justice' sacred laws maintain, Have taught the haughty Gaul to fear. On other earths, in other skies, Beyond old Ocean's western bound, Though bleeds afresh th' eternal wound, Again Britannia's cross triumphant flies. To British George, the king of isles, The tribes that rove th' Arcadian snows, Redeem'd from Gallia's polish'd wiles, Shall breathe their voluntary vows: Where Nature guards her last retreat, And pleas'd Astrea lingers still; While faith yet triumphs o'er deceit, And virtue reigns, from ignorance of ill. Yet, angel powers, though Gallia bend, Though Fame, with all her wreaths, attend 4 Nestoriæ brevitas senectæ. Musæ Anglicanæ. On bleeding war's tremendous The sons of leisure still complain, And musing science sighs in vain, For Peace is still away. Go then, ye faithful guides sway, Of her returning steps, angelic band, Bid her the wastes of war repair. -O southward seek the flying fair, Nor where the Vistula's proud current swells, Nor in the depths of Russia's snows she dwells. Yet O, where'er, deserting freedom's isle, She gilds the slave's delusive toil; Whether on Ebro's banks she strays, Or sighing traces Taio's winding ways, Or soft Ausonia's shores her feet detain, O bring the wanderer back, with glory in her train. ODE III. FOR HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1759. Shed influence on his natal hour, But what are wreaths in battle won? By whom th' enliven'd world its course maintains, By whom all Nature smiles, and beauteous order reigns. AGAIN the Sun's revolving sphere The white-wing'd minutes haste: To where descend his noontide beams, So much already hast thou prov'd O first of favour'd isles! Each month exerts a rival claim; Each future child of anxious time: And earth, and sea, and Heaven surveys: Genius of Albion, hear their prayer, And passport to eternity! O'er bleeding millions, realms opprest, Or breathes but notes of woe: Amidst her native rocks secure, Her floating bulwarks hovering round, What can the sea-girt realm endure, What dread, through all her wat❜ry bound? Great queen of Ocean, she defies All but the Power who rules the skies, And bids the storms engage; Inferior foes are dash'd and lost, As breaks the white wave on her coast Consum'd in idle rage. For alien sorrows heaves her generous breast, Thee, Glory, thee through climes unknown O potent queen of every breast Which aims at praise by virtuous deeds, Where'er thy influence shines confest The hero acts, th' event succeeds. Must bulwarks fall, and cities flame, On ruins pil'd, on ruins must she rise, And lend her rays to gild her fatal throne? From yonder pregnant cloud a kinder gleam, -And who is he, of regal mien, Reclin❜d on Albion's golden fleece, Whose polish'd brow and eye serene Proclaim him elder-born of peace? Another George!-Ye winds convey Th' auspicious name from pole to pole! Who sooth'd its murmurs with a father's care, Fair Peace shall bless his opening reign, The wreaths, so late by glory won, Shall weave their foliage round his throne, Till kings, abash'd, shall tremble to be foes, And Albion's dreaded strength secure the world's repose. ODE VI. FOR HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, JUNE 4, 1761. "T WAS at the nectar'd feast of Jove, His destin'd course on Earth had run, To grace the friend of human kind: The roofs with music rung! And thus the Muses sung: "What boon divine would Heav'n bestow? Ye gods, unbend the studious bow, The fruitless search give o'er, Whilst we the just reward assign, Let Hercules with Hebe join, And youth unite with power!" O sacred Truth, in emblem drest! Alcides stands confest. By temp❜rance nurs'd, and early taught That breathe from yonder bower; And youth unites with power. |