Or paint the curfe, that mark'd the Theban's reign,
A bed inceftuous, and a father flain.

With kind concern our pitying eyes o'erflow,
Trace the fad tale, and own another's woe..

To Rome remov'd, with wit fecure to please,
The comick fifters kept their native ease.
With jealous fear declining Greece beheld
Her own Menander's art almoft excell'd :
But every Mufe effay'd to raise in vain
Some labour'd rival of her tragick ftrain;
Illyffus' laurels, though transferr'd with toil,
Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew th' unfriendly foil.

As arts expir'd, refifilefs Dullness rofe; Goths, priefts, or Vandals, - all were learning's foes. Till Julius firft recall'd each exil'd maid, And Cofmo own'd them in the Etrurian shade : Then deeply fkill'd in love's engaging theme, The foft Provencial pafs'd to Arno's ftream: With graceful eafe the wanton lyre he ftrung; Sweet flow'd the lays, but love was all he fung. The gay defcription could not fail to move; For, led by nature, all are friends to love.

-

But heaven, ftill various in its works, decreed
The perfect boast of time should laft fucceed.
The beauteous union muft appear at length,
Of Tufcan fancy, and Athenian ftrength:
One greater Mufe Eliza's reign adorn,
And even a Shakspeare to her fame be born.

Yet ah! fo bright her morning's opening ray,
In vain our Britain hop'd an equal day.
No fecond growth the western ifle could bear,
At once exhaufted with too rich a year.
Too nicely Jonfon knew the critick's part;
Nature in him was almoft loft in art.

3 The Oedipus of Sophocles.

4 Julius II. the immediate predeceffor of Leo X.

Of fofter mold the gentle Fletcher came,
The next in order, as the next in name.

With pleas'd attention 'midft his fcenes we find
Each glowing thought, that warms the female mind;
Each melting figh, and every tender tear,.
The lover's wishes, and the virgin's fear.
His every ftrain the Smiles and Graces own; 5
But ftronger Shakspeare felt for man alone:
Drawn by his pen, our ruder paffions ftand
Th'unrivall'd picture of his early hand.

With gradual fteps, and flow, exacter France
Saw Art's fair empire o'er her fhores advance:
By length of toil a bright perfection knew,
Correctly bold, and juft in all the drew:
Till late Corneille, with Lucan's 7 fpirit fir'd,
Breath'd the free ftrain, as Rome and He infpir'd;
And claffick judgment gain'd to fweet Racine
The temperate ftrength of Maro's chafter line.

But wilder far the British laurel spread,
And wreaths lefs artful crown
our poe'ts head.
Yet He alone to every fcene could give
The hiftorian's truth, and bid the manners live.
Wak'd at his call I view, with glad furprize,'
Majeftick forms of mighty monarchs rise.
There Henry's trumpets fpread their loud alarms,
And laurell'd Conqueft waits her hero's arms.
Here gentler Edward claims a pitying figh,
Scarce born to honours, and fo foon to die!
Yet fhall thy throne, unhappy infant, bring
No beam of comfort to the guilty king:

5 Their characters are thus diftinguished by Mr. Dryden. 6 About the time of Shakspeare, the poet Hardy was in great repute in France. He wrote, according to Fontenelle, fix hundred plays. The French poets after him applied themselves in general to the corre& improvement of the ftage, which was almoft totally difregarded by thofe of our own country, Jonfon excepted.

7 The favourite author of the elder Corneille.

VOL. II,

Dd

8

The time fhall come, when Glofter's heart shall bleed
In life's last hours, with horror of the deed:
When dreary vifions fhall at laft prefent
Thy vengeful image in the midnight tent:
Thy hand unfeen the fecret death shall bear,
Blunt the weak fword, and break the oppreffive fpear.

Where'er we turn, by fancy charm'd, we find
Some fweet illufion of the cheated mind.
Oft, wild of wing, fhe calls the foul to rove
With humbler nature, in the rural grove;
Where fwains contented own the quiet fcene,,
And twilight fairies tread the circled green:
Drefs'd by her hand, the woods and vallies smile,
And Spring diffufive decks the inchanted ifle.

O more than all in powerful genius bleft, Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breaft! Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart fhall feel, Thy fongs fupport me, and thy morals heal. There every thought the poet's warmth may raise, There native mufick dwells in all the lays. O might fome verfe with happieft fkill perfuade Expreffive Picture to adopt thine aid!

What wondrous draughts might rife from every page! What other Raphaels charm a diftant age!

Methinks even now I view fome free defign, Where breathing Nature lives in every line: Chaste and subdued the modeft lights decay, Steal into fhades, and mildly melt away.

And fee, where Antony, in tears approv'd, Guards the pale relicks of the chief he lov'd: O'er the cold corfe the warrior feems to bend, Deep, funk in grief, and mourns his murder'd friend! Still as they prefs, he calls on all around,

Lifts the torn robe, and points the bleeding wound.

2

But who is he, whofe brows exalted bear
A wrath impatient, and a fiercer air?
Awake to all that injur'd worth can feel,
On his own Rome he turns the avenging feel.
Yet fhall not war's infatiate fury fall

(So heaven ordains it) on the deftin'd wall.
See the fond mother, 'midft the plaintive train,
Hung on his knees, and proftrate on the plain!
Touch'd to the foul, in vain he ftrives to hide
The fon's affection in the Roman's pride:
O'er all the man conflicting paffions rife,
Rage grafps the fword, while Pity melts the eyes.

Methinks I fee with Fancy's magick eye,
The fhade of Shakfpeare, in yon azure sky.
On yon, high cloud behold the bard advance,
Piercing all Nature with a fingle glance :
In various attitudes around him ftand

The Paffions, waiting for his dread command.
Firft kneeling Love before his feet appears,
And mufically fighing melts in tears.

Near him fell Jealoufy with fury burns,

And into forms the amorous breathings turns ; Then Hope with heavenward look, and Joy draws near, While palfied Terror trembles in the rear.

Such Shakspeare's train of horror and delight, &c. Chriftopher Smart's Prologue to Othello, 1751..

What are the lays of artful Addifon,
Coldly correct, to Shakspeare's warblings wild?
Whom on the winding Avon's willow'd banks
Fair Fancy found, and bore the fmiling babe
To a clofe cavern: (ftill the fhepherds fhew
The facred place, whence with religious awe
They hear, returning from the field at evc,
Strange whifp'ring of fweet mufick through the air:)

2 Coriolanus. See Mr. Spence's dialogue on the Odyssey.

1

1

Here, as with honey gather'd from the rock,
She fed the little prattler, and with fongs.
Oft footh'd his wond'ring ears; with deep delight
On her foft lap he fat, and caught the founds.

The Enthufiaft, or the Lover of Nature, a Poem, by the Rev. Jofeph Warton.

From the Rev. Thomas Warton's Addrefs to the
Queen on her Marriage.

Here, boldly mark'd with every living hue,
Nature's unbounded portrait Shakspeare drew :
But chief, the dreadful group of human woes
The daring artift's tragick pencil chofe;
Explor'd the pangs that rend the royal breast,
Thofe wounds that lurk beneath the tiffued vest.

Monody, written near Stratford-upon-Avon.

Avon, thy rural views, thy paftures wild,
The willows that o'erhang thy twilight edge,
Their boughs entangling with the embattled fedge;
Thy brink with watery foliage quaintly fring'd
Thy furface with reflected verdure ting'd;
Sooth me with many a penfive pleasure mild.
But while I mufe, that here the Bard Divine
Whofe facred duft yon high-arch'd ifles inclose,
Where the tall windows rife in ftately rows,
Above th' embowering fhade,

Here firft, at Fancy's fairy-circled shrine,
Of daifies pied his infant offering made;
Here playful yet, in ftripling years unripe,
Fram'd of thy reeds a fhrill and artless pipe:
Sudden thy beauties, Avon, all are fled,
As at the waving of fome magick wand;
And holy trance my charmed fpirit wings,
And aweful fhapes of leaders and of kings,