Poems on various subjects

Front matter

POEMS G. WOODFALL, AbsaB&vpmrv., SpQJr&A street, London. POEMS "ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, BY JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ. DEAR SIR, ** I have to thank you for a Volume written in the good old style of our Elders and our Betters, which I am very glad to see is not yet extinct." EXTRACT FROM A LETTER FROM THE LATE LORD BYRON TO THE AUTHOR. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON; Printed for PAYNE AND FOSS, PALL MALL ; LONGMAN, REES, ORME, AND CO. PATERNOSTER ROW ; J. RICHARDSON, ROYAL EXCHANGE ; AND J. MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1827. CONTENTS. VOL. I. Page List of Subscribers ....... xvii THE STAGE 1 PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES. Occasional Address, spoken by Mrs. Stephen Kemble, at the Theatre-Royal Haymarket . . . . . 41 Prologue to " The Divertisement " ..... 43 " Modern Breakfast "..... 45 . Mr. Merry's Tragedy of " Lorenzo " 48 Occasional Address, spoken by Mr. Stephen Kemble, on opening a Provincial Theatre ...... 50 Prologue to the Comedy of " Wild Oats " .... 51 " A World in a Village " . 53 Occasional Address for the opening of Covent-Garden Theatre 54 Prologue to a Play entitled " Curiosity " .... 56 Epilogue to the same ...... 57 Prologue to " The Disinterested Lover " . . . ,60 " The Magic Banner " .... 61 Occasional Address, on the Benefit of Mrs. Benson's Family . 62 spoken by Mrs. Stephen Kemble, at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, after a severe illness ... 64 Prologue to Mr. Holman's " Red Cross Knights " . . si5 VI CONTENTS.

Page Epilogue to the Comedy of " Indiscretion "... 67 Occasional Address, spoken by Mr. Lacy at Drury-Lane Theatre .......... 68 Epilogue to the Tragedy of " Adelaide " . 70 Prologue to the Comedy of " Life's Vagaries " . . -71 . " The Welsh Heiress " . . 73 Epilogue to " The Wise Man of the East " ... 74 ■ the Comedy of " The Votary of Wealth " . 76 Prologue to the Comedy of " She's Eloped " ■ • • 77 Epilogue to the Comedy of " Laugh when you can " . 78 Prologue to the Play of " Sighs, or, the Daughter " . .80 Occasional Address, on the Introduction of Master Betty at the Theatre Royal Covent-Garden .... 81 Prologue to the Comedy of " The Romantic Lover, or, Lost and Found " ........ 83 " To Marry, or not to Marry " 85 Epilogue to the same 86 Farewell Address, spoken by Mrs. Mudie, in the Theatre at Windsor 87 Prologue to the Comedy of " Town and Country " . . 88 " The Wanderer, or, the Rights of Hospitality " 89 Occasional Address, on the appearance of Mrs. Clarke in the character of the Grecian Daughter, at Covent-Garden Theatre 91 Occasional Address, on the representation of " Henry the Fifth, or, the Conquest of France," for the benefit of the Patriotic Fund at Lloyd's Coffee-house ... 92 Prologue to the manuscript Comedy of " The Tatlers " . 94 — Comedy of " Management " ... 95 ■ a Farce entitled " The Devil of a Lover " . 97 the Comedy of " Cheap Living " ... 98 Epilogue to the same . . . . . . . ]00 Occasional Address, intended for the Benefit of Mrs. King, widow of Mr. King, the actor CONTENTS.

VI] Page Prologue to " The School for Reform " .... 103 the Comedy of " The Will " . . . .104 Farewell Address, spoken by Mrs. Stephen Kemble, in the Theatre Royal Edinburgh 106 Occasional Address, spoken by Lady Perrot at the Haymarket Theatre 107 for the Introduction of Mr. Foot, in the character of Hamlet, at Drury-Lane Theatre . . 109 Prologue to the Play of " Lovers' Vows " . . . .110 Comedy of " How to Please and how to Tease " 111 Occasional Address, on the intended appearance of Signora Catalani at Covent-Garden Theatre . . . . 112 Prologue 113 Occasional Address, intended for the theatrical performances of some Military Gentlemen at Canterbury . . 115 for the Benefit of the Theatrical Fund 116 Prologue to " The Round Robin " 118 the Comedy of " Policy " . . . . 119 " Smiles and Tears " . . 121 Tributary Address to the Patrons of the New Musical Fund 122 Prologue to the late Mr. Tobine's Play, entitled " The Fisher. man's Hut " 123 Occasional Address on the re-opening of the Theatre Royal Drury-Lane, on September the 12th, 1818 . . . 124 Prologue for the Tragedy of " De Montfort " . . . 126 to " The Vespers of Palermo " . . . .127 Introductory Address, intended to be spoken by Stephen Kemble, Esq 128 Epilogue to the Play entitled " Switzerland "... 129 Prologue for the Tragedy of " Caius Gracchus " . . 131 " Orestes in Argos " . . 132 to the Extravaganza of " Giovanni in Ireland " 134 Comedy of " Roses and Thorns " . . 135 " Married and Single " . .

Prologue

IO "THE DIVERTISEMENT, A MUSICAL PASTICCIO, PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL COVENT-GARIJEN. SPOKEN BY MR. FARREN. That critics may not carp, nor malice grumble, We fairly own this drama is a jumble ; A thing indeed scarce worthy hostile spleen, Of various colours, a mere patchwork scene ; Yet as you oft have view'd with partial eye, If rumour errs not, ev'ry single die, Sure we may hope that blameless they will pass, Now we present them mingled in a mass. Our friends above there, many a merry time, Have rapt'rous seen the changeful pantomime ; — Ask we on what so eagerly they doat ? What but the hero of the motley coat. E'en those below, of fashion's glitt'ring train, Who fondly crowd her evervarying fane, Think they this goddess of the transient hue Yields always to her vot'ries something new !

Alas ! she is but Nature's servile ape, Works with her substance, and but courts her shape, And when she dares the great exemplar slight. Some crude distortion but offends the sight. This for our piece to soften your decree — Now for your kindness on a diff'rent plea. Long has it been our pride to hold the Stage The moral mirror of the passing age ; To shew the form and pressure of the time, And character reflect of ev'ry clime : What if we deviate from the gen'ral plan, And quit, for once, the species for the man : Our mimic brothers of the brush, we find, Draw individuals rather than the kind ; Like them, let us the scenic canvas spread, Not for whole man, but any single head. Tonight a vocal painter enters here, Tend'ring his harmless sketches to the ear, Nor fears your candour will his efforts blame, Since not burlesque, but portrait, is his aim.

PROLOGUE.

TO "MODERN BREAKFAST,' A FARCE, BY MR. SIDDONS, JUN. SPOKEN BY MRS. STEPHEN KEMBLE. Critics, for once your dread decrees suspend, And strive to prove, hard task, a poet's friend ; The timid, trembling, inexperienced wight Who for your favour humbly sues to-night, Can urge one plea that should disarm your spleen, For know, dread censors, he is scarce fifteen. The awful sages of the law, we find, Are always to the youthful culprits kind, And rather charge the first offences still On erring judgement, than corrupted will. With pity then, behold this early crime, Nor doom him dead e'er yet he reach his prime, But nobly leave him to reforming time. Ladies, you're bound to judge by gentle laws, And own the fault is sanctioned by the cause : 'Tis love, alas ! has led the stripling wrong — Charm'd by the Muse and her enchanting song.

The Muse, with all her sex's magic sway, Too oft has drawn the youthful heart astray. Ah ! since so soon allur'd by female wiles, Here should his hopes be cheer'd by female smiles ; Oh ! then ye fair, your soft protection give, And our young bard shall spite of critics live. Forgive him, beaux, if he, like other fools, Vulgar, should swerve from fashion's nicer rules, Sporting no tassel'd knee, no swoll'n cravat, No booted ancle, and no chimney hat ; Yet in the Muse he loves a charming jade, And gallantry 's at least a modish trade. But, if the dragons, breathing hostile flame, Who watch th' Hesperian fruit of letter'd fame, Denied themselves the tempting food to taste, Would envious keep him from the rich repast ; If females too his tender plea should slight, Or, harder still, with critics foes unite, Because, neglecting each terrestrial fair, He madly wooes a beauty of the air ; If beaux should rashly hiss, ere yet they know Whether his cape 's too high, or skirt too low ; Whether in gross expansion glares his face, Or well-bred whiskers spread a grisly grace, And scarce allow th' imprison'd nose a place ; Let gen'rous sympathy his cause defend — Th' attempt was kindly made to serve a friend : Sure then a British audience will assign One sprig of bays to bloom on friendship's shrine.

So may that sprig, placed by your partial care, Not with'ring drop, but rise and flourish there, Till spreading strong, with life's advancing morn, The moral Stage it shelter and adorn. Then while the Muse imparts her plastic aid, And virtue consecrates the votive shade, Th' exulting bard shall own with grateful pride, Your fost'ring zeal the genial force supplied. ■r

PROLOGUE.

TO MR. MERRY'S TRAGEDY OF "LORENZO." SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN. 'Tis held that pleasure rules this laughing age, And mirth has so monopoliz'd the stage, That poor Melpomene in vain may swell With rending woes, and direful stories tell : No drops of kindred grief resistless start, No sob responsive soothes her bursting heart ; Her sportive sister reigns despotic here, And, if ye weep, joy claims th' ecstatic tear. If so, our bard, alas ! in luckless hour Has rashly tried the scene's pathetic pow'r. Critics perchance will scowl with fierce disdain, Or giddy fashion mock the tender strain. But sure 'tis slander — Britons still can feel Still foster genius with impartial zeal, Whether it frolic with the jocund muse, Or nobler strains of sacred sorrow choose. Let kindling genius spread its magic beam, Or on the sprightly or the mournful theme, And British sympathy shall still supply Mirth's loudest roar, or pity's tend'rest sigh.

Whether one spark of this transcendent fire Has touch'd our timid poet's trembling lyre ; Whether he faintly gleam with borrow'd rays, Or burst effulgent forth with native blaze, From your august award will soon appear, Which he, alas ! awaits with boding fear. — Yet sure no harsh decree he need presage From taunting fashion, or from critic rage ; For since his cause by Englishmen is tried, The sentence must incline to mercy's side. And if the drooping minstrel of to-night Has struck the melancholy chords aright, If, while he fondly pours the plaintive line, He aims to sadden only to refine ; If true to Nature, Nature must prevail, Each heart will soften at the melting tale, And own, as once the sage enthusiast* sung, Whose moral harp the raptur'd Muses strung, " The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears." * Pope. e OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY MR. STEPHEN KEMBLE, ON OPENING A PROVINCIAL THEATRE Custom, a potentate whose specious sway Mankind so oft implicitly obey, Proud in pretension of prescriptive right, Expects perhaps a prologue here to-night.

But though we scorn to yield with slavish awe A blind respect to that old tyrant's law, Yet for the kind protection you impart, The grateful tribute rushes from the heart. The scenic Muse, unlike her sister train, Too long has struggled with a galling chain, Forc'd a precarious residence to seek, Or think by license, and by patent speak : What though the potent terror of her Stage Can torpid conscience rouse to scorpion rage — E'en those who slight religion's voice divine, Have wept repentant at the Muse's shrine, While the mild grace of her pathetic scene, Her soften'd accents, and her gentler mien, The selfish passions can at once disarm By the sweet force of pity's melting charm : What though with equal pow'r her comic strain The sacred cause of virtue still maintain, While her arch satire, sportive and yet warm, Can headstrong folly with a laugh reform ; -9 Yet least protected is she doom'd to pine, Though the first Muse of all the tuneful Nine ; Though, whereso'er the bless'd enthusiast stray, A moral radiance brightens all the way. 'Tis yours to mitigate a lot severe : 'Tis yours the drooping, wand'ring, nympb to cheer ; Oh ! may she find a lasting shelter here.

Then while we pour her various treasures forth, And fondly strive to vindicate her worth, If all unequal to the bold design Where her own Shakspeare's matchless glories shine. Oh ! if we rudely sweep his wond'rous lyre, May the 'rapt strain at least your minds inspire ; Till Fancy, kindling at his magic flame, Impart to " airy nothing " place and name ; And too possess'd to stoop at vulgar faults, " Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts."*

PROLOGUE.

TO THE COMEDY OF " WILD OATS. SPOKEN BY MR. IIARLEY. What can we now invite you to partake, When realms have been exhausted for your sake, And ample nature travers'd o'er and o'er, Till all her beaten haunts can yield no more ? From climes where Phœbus pours his brightest ray To where scarce faintly dawns the twilight day, The dauntless bards have urg'd their vent'rous aim, To greet you still with fresh dramatic game. * Prologue to Henry the Fifth. E One noble hunter of the Thespian train Rush'd from his Avon's side o'er earth's domain, And brought with happy magic more than toil, The motley tribe of ev'ry varying soil ; While his quick eye so widely could explore, That Time himself shall scarce discover more. Nay, in the track of his sublime career, We pass the bounds of Nature's humble sphere, And zealous tender all our search has found Through radiant wilds of Fancy's fairy ground.

Once more the arduous chace we dare renew, And fondly hope we've started something new. Our hero, for so far we may discover, Is a young actor, and of course a lover ; But, what perchance will raise no slight surprise, Though used to various shapes above disguise: Fictitious language of a borrow'd part Sports from his tongue indeed, but not his heart ; For Nature's warm and absolute controul Guides ev'ry impulse of his gen'rous soul. Sure such a part your favour must engage, And though a stranger on the mimic stage, Yet may the scenic band with honest pride, Howe'er by formal prejudice decried, Boast as fair patterns of domestic worth As that our present drama pictures forth. Let then the bard who vindicates our cause Receive the sanction of your warm applause ; So may we prove, in spite of prudish spleen, Actors can feel beyond the passing scene, And, long too harshly deem'd a thoughtless kind Live to the friendly model he design'd.

PROLOGUE.

TO THE COMEDY OF " A WORLD IN A VILLAGE." SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN. In these dread times, when war's unsated rage Crowds with disasters life's eventful stage, When the fell trumpet and embattled ire Drown the soft warblings of the slighted lyre, The Muses' lonely haunts no more display, Among their with'ring blooms, the poet's bay ; The partial soil the laurel only rears, For martial wreaths that vegetate in tears. At such a time, superfluous seems the art To melt with fabled woes the sadden'd heart ; The sorrowing Muses need themselves relief, And Fancy droops in sympathetic grief. The tragic maid indeed may sooth her care, And future scenes from passing ills prepare ; But for the laughing nymph, alas ! can she At ease presume with her untimely glee ! Is there a place amidst a world's alarms In safety still to heed her frolic charms ?

Yes — in the shades of Britain's happy isle Still may the comic Muse securely smile ; Still with her tuneful sisters shelter here, Nor savage anarchy's vain menace fear. Here no dire ruffians, dead to gen'rous joy, All that endears and brightens life destroy ; Or, drench'd in blood, with impious rage combine, Trampling o'er thrones, to crush the hallow'd shrine No despot here exacts a slavish awe, The casual impulse of his passions law. Here, on a rock, secure amid the storm, Dwells Liberty, in fair moriarchic form, Around her fane, with venerable grace, Three matchless columns fortify the place ; Enthron'd within, pre-eminently great, Sits awful Justice in majestic state, Of equal laws the animating soul, And station'd highest, to survey the whole : Her sword by mercy check'd, as urg'd by might, Her crown, the sanction of a people's right.

OCCASIONAL ADDRESS FOR THE OPENING OF COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE. Think not 'tis merely now our poor design To greet you with the cold and labour'd line, Trick'd out with all the Muse's flow'ry aid, That custom tenders in a vain parade : No — prouder, we such formal dulness spurn, And hail with genuine joy your glad return. Absence can calm the vengeance of a foe, And make e'en friends with livelier transports glow. Yet higher still must be the bliss, when we Not only friends, but lib'ral patrons see. ■9 Nor let some Cynic hint, with churlish sneer, That int'rest prompts the wish to meet you here : For grant that hope may spread its cheering ray O'er the fair scenes of many a future day*, Our cordial greetings no mean care supplies, But grateful mem'ry bids that hope arise. And let your candour deem us not too vain, If while our feelings pour an artless strain, We dare refer you to the scene around, For proof where grateful mem'ry may be found.

Yet though we thus may emulative try With grace of ornament to lure the eye, Ne'er may we court you at the dear expense Of truth and nature, character and sense ; But chiefly heed the Drama's glorious end — Mankind to cheer, to soften, and to mend. Then while with duteous rev'rence we explore Of scenic worth th' unperishable lore, Each kindred spirit who may pant to trace The great fore-fathers of the tuneful race (Poetic planets that through ev'ry age Shall spread unfading splendour o'er the stage), Each fond Enthusiast of congenial flame, According talents, and one common aim, Rapt with a zeal, from potent Nature caught, To " body forth" the poet's airy thought, Shall find a sure, a warm protection here, To raise the moral laugh or chast'ning tear. So, daring hope ! new Shakspeares may arise; So may new Garricks fix your wond'ring eyes, And by the spells of their united art, Still charm the passions — to refine the heart,

PROLOGUE.

TO A FLAY ENTITLED " CURIOSIT Y," WRITTEN BY THE LATE KING OF SWEDEN*, AND REPRESENTED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL COVENT-GARDEN. SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN. In humble tone should we to-night essay, To court your kind protection for our play, Well might your hearts with honest anger burn, And the mean suppliant strain indignant spurn ; For now the offspring of a hapless Muse, Here as an orphan and a stranger sues, — The Orphan and the Stranger still have found A shelter and a home on British ground. Warm'd by the genuine force of Heav'n's own fire, To grace at once the sceptre and the lyre, Our bard the pomp of state would oft resign, To pay glad homage to the sacred Nine ; Conscious his regal gems would brighter glow, Twin'd with the wreaths the sacred Nine bestow. Too well you know that in a sportive hour, But rarely found amid the toils of pow'r, He sunk beneath the fell assassin's rage, Depriv'd of life when life could most engage, * Father of the present exiled Monarch of that country.

In manhood's vig'rous prime — with fair renown, Heroic laurels blooming on his crown. Yet thus, alas ! untimely reft of all, His gen'rous nature triumph'd o'er his fall, In death's severest pangs revenge could quell, And plead for him by whose dire hate he fell ! Then o'er his fate while Genius heaves a sigh, And Pity's tribute trembles in her eye, Oh ! guard his mem'ry from each hostile aim, Let not the ruthless critic wound his fame, But to his gentle shade due rev'rence pay, And plant upon his grave the British bay.

Epilogue

TO THE SAME. SPOKEN BY MRS. GLOVER. Say ladies, on a drama can you smile, That aims your darling passion to revile ? Shall men at us direct their saucy wit, And we in patient diffidence submit ? That haughty sex, in spite of all their pride, Have little right our follies to deride : The self-same errors in themselves we see, And oft prevailing in a worse degree. Our harmless quarrels raise but tittle-tattle, Their mighty hate oft breeds a bloody battle ; And while each hero deals tremendous raps, Our direst warfare is but pulling caps. While men, inflam'd by mad ambition's fire, With rival rage to rule the world aspire, Not to such daring heights our wishes roam, Calmly content to keep the rule at home. But let us grant, what these proud men declare, That curiosity's the woman's snare, Still 'tis a passion Wisdom must admire — What can we know if we must ne'er inquire ?

" Pray, dear Miss Busy, who's that handsome spark, That rides with Lady Ramble in the Park ?" — " Lord, Child, what ignorance you'd fain pretend — You know it is her husband's dearest friend. And there you see the husband, on my life, Who always rides with his dear friend's dear wife." All this is well-bred chit-chat that proclaims The wit and knowledge of our modish dames. But what exalted topics shall we find, Employ the pow'rs of man's superior mind ? And let us first attend the tonish race, The constant pest of ev'ry public place : What are their themes ? — a bit of blood — a gig — A drinking bout — a bet — a new crop-wig — Of feats of valour where they ran away, Of debts of honour which they're forc'd to pay, On pain of being banish'd from the place Where sharpers are familiar with his Grace ; Of wanton tricks beneath a boy at school, That shew at once the savage and the fool ; In short, of ev'ry thing that gives offence To taste and feeling, decency and sense.

But take these talkers from their own pert kind, A sullen gloom denotes an empty mind ; Beauty neglecting, wit not understood, For aught except themselves mere men of wood. Such is the sprig of fashion of the day, Stupidly grave, or mischievously gay. This mongrel can nor man nor woman suit, A torpid blockhead or a noisy brute. And what's the man of bus'ness that the dames Should bow submissive to his nobler aims ? His happiness and knowledge centre all In the great chance that Stocks may rise or fall, And, should th' invaders land, his only care, Whether he clos'd his job as Bull or Bear, And Buonaparte might e'en storm the Tow'r, So he depress'd Consols one little hour. — Yet think not Britons, thus your worth we measure, By the mere slaves of bus'ness or of pleasure, Or aim with mean invective to degrade The men of fashion, or the men of trade : No — 'tis the glory of this happy land, That Rank and Commerce here walk hand in hand ; That various ties, connecting every class, Combine the whole in one harmonious mass : No — still with pride your gen'rous hearts enfold The virtues that adorn'd your sires of old — Softness that melts at Beauty's potent charms, Courage that dares to meet the world in arms, And as the mistress and the monarch sway, Proud to protect, and happy to obey.

Oh ! may the sacred bond for ever last, And England's future heroes, like the past, Together rising, one resistless host, Crush the vain foe that dares invade our coast ; And, all his desp'rate plans at random hurl'd, In concord live, amidst a jarring world.

PROLOGUE.

TO " THE DISINTERESTED LOVER," A PLAY ALTERED FROM MASSINGER, AND REPRESENTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE. SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN. No puny offspring of a modern Muse To-night for critic favour meanly sues, 'Twas born among the vig'rous wits of yore, A giant-race, whom Nature breeds no more. Who knows not Massinger ? — an honour'd name, High on the records of dramatic fame, Whom the stern judges of a former time Pronounc'd but second to our Bard sublime ; And though remote from Shakspeare's matchless height, He knew the track, and kept the orb in sight. Since such the source from which our piece we draw, Britons receive the trust with duteous awe ; Your sires of old gave sanction to the play, You need but think and act as well as they — They, placed so proudly on th' historic page, For deeds heroic, and for counsels sage !

While Fame, exulting, tells you how they fought, Our laws can testify how well they thought, Our laws, that, built on Freedom's noblest plan, Assert each sacred privilege of man, And guard, all partial slavish ties unknown, With equal force the cottage and the throne. May Britons still those glorious laws revere, Aloof from innovation's mad career ! Still hold a bright example to mankind, Nor happier modes expect abroad to find, Assur'd, if freedom can on earth be found, Her hallow'd dome is fix'd on British ground.

PROLOGUE.

TO " THE MAGIC BANNER." The poet of to-night so long has play'd In wild luxuriance with the comic maid, Well may he dread to rouse the critic's ire, If to heroic heights his Muse aspire. What ! he who sketch'd the follies of Boweit*, And rifled Lilly's stores for Lingo's * wit, Urge his bold course along th' historic *way, And awful Alfred's peerless worth pourtray ! That sceptre'd sage, in simple garb, we know, Lurk'd in the lines to watch his country's foe ; But shall our wag, with frolic licence come, And make the Patriot Prince a Peeping Tom* ? No, gen'rous Britons, chase the needless fear, — He, like yourselves, can Alfred's fame revere, * Characters written by this author. '» Nor think, with wanton levity, he draws The glorious founder of our matchless laws. But if, in roving mood, our bard should find, Some casual incidents of sportive kind, Let him to raise a harmless laugh essay, — No leaf is injur'd of the hero's bay ; That honour'd wreath, 'till Nature's gen'ral doom Shall rear its foliage in perennial bloom.

Nor you, fell critics, look with threat'ning mien, Because our bard on nobler tracks is seen ; If he with lofty Pegasus should prance, Like Sancho, rais'd to regions of romance, He will but peep upon th' etherial plain, And soon on humble Dapple trot again. OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, ON THE BENEFIT OF MRS. BENSON'S FAMILY. SPOKEN BY MRS. JORDAN. The long historic track of time survey, Far as tradition sheds a dubious ray, Still Britain has beheld, with patriot pride, In her lov'd isle the Charities reside. Let but distress, whate'er the cause, appear, Lo ! Pity yields the sympathizing tear, And at her side Benevolence is found, To raise the helpless mourner from the ground. Still, as of old, the sons of Britain feel, And her fair daughters share the gen'rous zeal ; One only contest in their breasts can glow, The noble rivalry to succour woe.

Though Greece and Rome their ancient worth proclaim, And God-like heroes of immortal fame, The deeds of valour which our annals grace, Attest that Britain boasts an equal race ; An equal race in each heroic part, With gentler virtues that refine the heart, — Virtues that tower above their proudest plan, That cheer, embellish, and ennoble man. Does Envy doubt ? — behold the smiling land ; On ev'ry side the domes of feeling stand ; Where Sickness finds a balm to sooth its pain, And Age and Want a ready shelter gain. Nor less the bounteous aim to spread relief Where Merit lingers in sequester'd grief, — Enough, they hear Affliction's faintest sigh, All volunteers where Sorrow's ensigns fly. To-night, alas ! a melancholy train, For your protection plead, nor plead in vain, Three helpless infants, and the weeping wife — Untimely lost the prop and charm of life, — An aged pair — but what can words avail, To point your feelings to the hapless tale, When ev'ry eye the plaintive story tells, And ev'ry heart with lib'ral pity swells, Nor let th' officious Muse a theme prolong, That melts, yet animates, this gen'rous throng.

OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY MRS. STEPHEN KEMBLE, AT NEWCASTLE UPON-TYNE, AFTER A SEVERE ILLNESS. At length, all terrors and all dangers o'er, I now behold my gen'rous friends once more, Those gen'rous friends whose persevering aid My simple efforts has so oft o'erpaid, So oft that Fancy tries in vain to find A language equal to my grateful mind. Yet let me say, that in the languid hour, When sickness bent me with her chast'ning pow'r, And Fate seem'd threat'ning near, the thought of you Cheer'd with a bright'ning grace the dreary view. For Hope then whisper'd to my drooping heart You haply bore a sympathizing part, And that, if skill should vainly try to save, A sigh from you would dignify my grave. My heart relied on Hope's inspiring strain, And her sweet magic sooth'd the rage of pain.