HASAN. The sultan comes, still gloomy, still enraged. SCENE XI. HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, ABDALLA. MAHOMET. Where's this fair trait'ress? Where's this smiling mischief? Whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind? HASAN. Thine orders, mighty sultan! are perform'd, And all Irene now is breathless clay. MAHOMET. Your hasty zeal defrauds the claim of justice, True, she was fair; the smile of innocence MUSTAPHA. His breath prolong'd but to detect her treason, Then in short sighs forsook his broken frame. MAHOMET. Decreed to perish in Irene's chamber ! There had she lull'd me with endearing falsehoods, Clasp'd in her arms, or slumb'ring on her breast, And bar'd my bosom to the ruffian's dagger. SCENE XII. HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMEt, mustapha, murza, ABDALLA. MURZA, Forgive, great sultan! that, by fate prevented, I bring a tardy message, from Irene. MAHOMET. Some artful wile of counterfeited love! MURZA. The queen requested that a chosen troop Might intercept the traitor Greek, Demetrius, Then ling'ring with his captive mistress here. MUSTAPHA. The Greek Demetrius! whom th' expiring bassa Declar'd the chief associate of his guilt! MAHOMET. A chosen troop-to intercept-DemetriusThe queen requested-Wretch, repeat the message; [ties, Heard her last cries, and fann'd her dying beau. Shall hide me from the tasteless world for ever. [Mahomet goes back and returns. Yet, ere I quit the sceptre of dominion, Let one just act conclude the hateful day. Hew down, ye guards, those vassals of distraction, [Painting to Hasan and Caraza. Those hounds of blood, that catch the hint to kill; Bear off with eager haste th' unfinish'd sentence, And speed the stroke, lest mercy should o'ertake them. CARAZA. Then hear, great Mahomet, the voice of truth. Hadst thou heard a moment, EPILOGUE. 3Y SIR WILLIAM YONGE. MARRY a Turk! a haughty tyrant king! Thou might'st have liv'd, for thou had'st spar'd To have the fiftieth part her paltry share? Irene. CARAZA. I heard her, pitied her, and wish'd to save her. MAHOMET. And wish'd-be still thy fate to wish in vain. CARAZA. I heard, and soften'd, till Abdalla brought Her final doom, and hurried her destruction. MAHOMET. Abdalla brought her doom! Abdalla brought it, HASAN. Abdalla brought it, While yet she begg'd to plead her cause before thee. 'Tis true the fellow's handsome, straight, and tall, But how the devil should he please us all! In vain proud man usurps what's woman's due, For us alone, they honour's paths pursue : Inspir'd by us, they glory's heights ascend; Woman the source, the object, and the end. Though wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive, These are all trifles to what we can give. MAHOMET. O seize me, madness-Did she call on me! [Exit Mahomet; Abdalla is dragged off. HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA. MUSTAPHA to MURZA. What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee, MURZA. Such was the will of Heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose, [arm'd, Rush'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unBreathless, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me, till Demetrius set me free. MUSTAPHA. So sure the fall of greatness, rais'd on crimes! So fix'd the justice of all-conscious Heav'n! When haughty guilt exults with impious joy, Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy; Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart, But Heav'n shall guide it to the guilty heart. Shames the mean pensions of Augustan times, At length our mighty bard's victorious lays Unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay, PROLOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF THE GOOD-NATURED MAN, PREST by the load of life, the weary mind Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply. Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale, Says swelling Crispin, "begg'd a cobbler's vote.' The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe; PROLOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF A WORD TO THE WISE'. 4 SPOKEN BY MR. HULL. THIS night presents a play which public rage, 1 Performed at CoventGarden theatre in 1777, for the benefit of Mrs. Kelly, widow of Hugh Kelly, esq. (the author of the play) and her children. Upon the first representation of this play, 1770, a party assembled to damn it, and succeeded. From zeal or malice, now no more we dread, By all like him must praise and blame be found, SPRING, AN ODE. STERN Winter now by Spring repress'd, Delights to catch the gales of life. And vegetation plants the plain, Her wings Imagination tries, Where's humble turrets rise. Nor from the pleasing groves depart, Where Wisdom first inform'd my heart. A guide-a father-and a friend, Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd; When best enjoy'd-when most improv'd. Cool meditation's quiet seat, Bright Wisdom, teach me Curio's art, 1 The author being ill of the gout. MIDSUMMER, AN ODE. O PHOEBUS! down the western sky, Far hence diffuse thy burning ray, Thy light to distant worlds supply, And wake them to the cares of day. Come, gentle Eve, the friend of care, Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night! Refresh me with a cooling air, And cheer me with a lambent light. Lay me, where o'er the verdant ground Her living carpet Nature spreads; Where the green bower, with roses crown'd, In showers its fragrant foliage sheds; Improve the peaceful hour with wine, Let music die along the grove; Around the bowl let myrtles twine, And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love. Come, Stella, queen of all my heart! Come, born to fill its vast desires! Thy looks perpetual joys impart, Thy voice perpetual love inspires. Whilst all my wish and thine complete, By turns we languish and we burn, Let sighing gales our sighs repeat, Our murmurs-murmuring brooks return. Let me when Nature calls to rest, And blushing skies the morn foretel, AUTUMN, AN ODE. ALAS! with swift and silent pace, Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe. And Summer-fruits desert the bough. As Boreas strips the bending trees. The fields that wav'd with golden grain, As russet heaths, are wild and bare; Oh! would some god but wings supply! If glooms, and showers, and storms prevail; Aud Ceres flies the naked field, And flowers, and fruits, and Phœbus fail? Oh! what remains, what lingers yet, In love, and mirth, of mighty power. This god of health, and verse, and day. Still still the jocund strain shall flow, The pulse with vigorous rapture beat; My Stella with new charms shall glow, And ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet. WINTER, AN ODE. No more the inorn, with tepid rays, With sighs we view the hoary hill, Through verdant paths now sought in vain. Aloud the driving tempest roars, Congeal'd, impetuous showers descend; With light and heat my little sphere; Or mirth repeat the jocund tale; And o'er the season wine prevail. Yet time life's dreary winter brings, When mirth's gay tale shall please no more; No music charm-though Stella sings ; Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore. Catch, then, Oh! catch the transient hour, Improve each moment as it flies; Life's a short summer-man a flower: He dies-alas! how soon he dies! THE WINTER'S WALK. BEHOLD, my fair, where'er we rove, What dreary prospects round us rise; The naked hill, the leafless grove, The hoary ground, the frowning skies! Nor only through the wasted plain, Stern Winter! is thy force confess'd; Still wider spreads thy horrid reign, I feel thy power usurp my breast. Enlivening hope, and fond desire, Resign the heart to spleen and care; Scarce frighted love maintains her fire, And rapture saddens to despair. In groundless hope, and causeless fear, Unhappy man! behold thy doom; Still changing with the changeful year, The slave of sunshine and of gloom. Tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms, With mental and corporeal strife, Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms, And screen me from the ills of life. How passion's well-accorded strife TO MISS ***** ON HER GIVING THE AUTHOR A GOLD AND SILK To weave those nets that catch the heart. The heart once caught should ne'er be freed? TO MISS ***** ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HARPSICHORD IN A ROOM HUNG WITH FLOWER-PIECES OF HER OWN PAINTING2. WHEN Stella strikes the tuneful string In scenes of imitated spring, When charms thus press on ev'ry sense, Mark, when from thousand mingled dyes Mark, when the different notes agree 1 Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscella nies. EVENING: AN ODE. TO STELLA. EVENING now from purple wings Sheds the grateful gifts she brings; Brilliant drops bedeck the mead, Cooling breezes shake the reed; Shake the reed, and curl the stream Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam; Near the chequer'd, lonely grove, Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love. Stella, thither let us stray, Lightly o'er the dewy way. Phoebus drives his burning car, Hence, my lovely, Stella, far; In his stead, the queen of night Round us pours a lambent light: Light that seems but just to show Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow. Let us now, in whisper'd joy, Evening's silent hours employ, Silence best, and conscious shades Please the hearts that love invades, Other pleasures give them pain, Lovers all but love disdain. TO THE SAME. WHETHER Stella's eyes are found Fix'd on earth, or glancing round, If her face with pleasure glow, If she sigh at other's woe, If her easy air express Conscious worth, or soft distress, Stella's eyes, and air, and face, Charm with undiminish'd grace. If on her we see display'd Pendant gems, and rich brocade, If her chintz with less expense Flows in easy negligence; Still she lights the conscious flame, Still her charms appear the same; If she strikes the vocal strings, If she's silent, speaks, or sings, If she sit, or if she move, Still we love and still approve. Vain the casual, transient glance, Which alone can please by chance, Beauty, which depends on art, Changing with the changing heart, Which demands the toilet's aid, Pendent gems and rich brocade. I those charms alone can prize Which from constant nature rise, Which nor circumstance, nor dress, 2 Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscella- E'er can make, or more, or less. nies. |