TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE PRINCESS OF WALES,

WITH THE TRAGEDY OF CATO, Nov. 1714.

THE muse that oft, with sacred raptures fir'd,
Has gen'rous thoughts of liberty inspir'd,
And, boldly rising for Britannia's laws,
Engaged great Cato in her country's cause',
On
you submissive waits, with hopes assur'd,
By whom the mighty blessing stands secur'd,
And all the glories that our age adorn,
Are promis'd to a people yet unborn.

1 Engaged great Cato in her country's cause.] Some little disingenuity has been charged on the author from this line (see Pope's Works, Ep. to Aug. v. 215, Mr. Warburton's edition), nor can I wholly acquit him of it. The truth, however, seems to be this: Mr. A. had no party-views in composing this tragedy; and he was only solicitous (whatever his friends might be) to secure the suffrage of both parties, when it was brought on the stage. But the public would only see it in a political light and was it to be wondered at, that a poet, in a dedication too, should take advantage of the general voice, to make a merit of his imputed patriotism, with the new family? How spotless must that muse be, that, in passing through a court, had only contracted this slight stain, even in the opinion of so severe a censor and casuist as Mr. Pope! BP. HURD.

:

VOL. II.

F

No longer shall the widow'd land bemoan
A broken lineage, and a doubtful throne;
But boast her royal progeny's increase,
And count the pledges of her future peace.
O born to strengthen and to grace our isle!
While you, fair princess, in your offspring smile,
Supplying charms to the succeeding age,
Each heavenly daughter's triumphs we presage ;
Already see th' illustrious youths complain,
And pity monarchs doom'd to sigh in vain.
Thou too, the darling of our fond desires,
Whom Albion, opening wide her arms, requires,
With manly valour and attractive air

Shalt quell the fierce and captivate the fair.
O England's younger hope! in whom conspire
The mother's sweetness and the father's fire!
For thee, perhaps, e'en now, of kingly race
Some dawning beauty blooms in every grace,
Some Carolina, to heav'n's dictates true,
Who, while the sceptred rivals vainly sue,
Thy inborn worth with conscious eyes shall see,
And slight th' imperial diadem for thee.

Pleas'd with the prospect of successive reigns,
The tuneful tribe no more in daring strains
Shall vindicate, with pious fears oppress'd,
Endanger'd rights, and liberty distress'd :
To milder sounds each muse shall tune the lyre,
And gratitude, and faith to kings inspire,
And filial love; bid impious discord cease,
And sooth the madding factions into peace;
Or rise ambitious in more lofty lays,

And teach the nation their new monarch's praise,

Describe his awful look, and godlike mind,
And Cæsar's power with Cato's virtue join'd.

Meanwhile, bright princess, who, with graceful ease
And native majesty, are form'd to please;
Behold those arts with a propitious eye,
That suppliant to their great protectress fly!
Then shall they triumph, and the British stage
Improve her manners, and refine her rage,
More noble characters expose to view,
And draw her finish'd heroines from you.

Nor you the kind indulgence will refuse,
Skill'd in the labours of the deathless muse:
The deathless muse with undiminish'd rays
Through distant times the lovely dame conveys:
To Gloriana Waller's harp was strung;
The queen still shines, because the poet sung.
Even all those graces, in your frame combin'd,
The common fate of mortal charms may find:
(Content our short-liv'd praises to engage,
The joy and wonder of a single age,)
Unless some poet in a lasting song
To late posterity their fame prolong,
Instruct our sons the radiant form to prize,

And see your beauty with their fathers' eyes.

VERSES

TO THE

AUTHOR OF THE TRAGEDY OF CATO.

WHILE you the fierce divided Britons awe,
And Cato with an equal virtue draw,

While envy is itself in wonder lost,

And factions strive who shall applaud you most;
Forgive the fond ambition of a friend,

Who hopes himself, not you, to recommend,
And join th' applause which all the learn'd bestow
On one to whom a perfect work they owe.

1

To my 1 light scenes I once inscrib'd your name,
And impotently strove to borrow fame:

Soon will that die, which adds thy name to mine;
Let me then live, join'd to a work of thine.

RICHARD STEELE.

THOUGH Cato shines in Virgil's epic song,
Prescribing laws among th' Elysian throng;
Though Lucan's verse, exalted by his name,
O'er gods themselves has rais'd the hero's fame;
The Roman stage did ne'er his image see,
Drawn at full length; a task reserv'd for thee.

1 Tender Husband, dedicated to Mr. Addison.

VERSES TO THE AUTHOR, ETC.
By thee we view the finish'd figure rise,
And awful march before our ravish'd eyes;
We hear his voice asserting virtue's cause;
His fate renew'd our deep attention draws,
Excites by turns our various hopes and fears,
And all the patriot in thy scene appears.

On Tiber's banks thy thought was first inspir'd,
"Twas there, to some indulgent grove retir'd,
Rome's ancient fortunes rolling in thy mind,
Thy happy muse this manly work design'd :
Or in a dream thou saw'st Rome's genius stand,
And, leading Cato in his sacred hand,
Point out th' immortal subject of thy lays,
And ask this labour to record his praise.

"Tis done the hero lives, and charms our age!
While nobler morals grace the British stage!
Great Shakspeare's ghost, the solemn strain to hear,
(Methinks I see the laurel'd shade appear!)
Will hover o'er the scene, and wond'ring view
His favourite Brutus rival'd thus by you.
Such Roman greatness in each action shines,
Such Roman eloquence adorns your lines,
That sure the sibyl's books this year foretold,
And in some mystic leaf was seen enroll'd,

66

Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Afric's shore, "Nor in her sands thy Cato's tomb explore!

"When thrice six hundred times the circling sun
"His annual race shall through the zodiac run,
"An isle remote his monument shall rear,
"And ev'ry gen'rous Briton pay a tear."

J. HUGHES.