« AnteriorContinuar »
Celestial themes confess'd his tuneful aid;
THE GOOD-NATURED MAN,
Spoken by Mrs. Bulkley. As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure; Thus, on the stage, our play-rights still depend, For epilogues and prologues on some friend, Who knows each art of coaxing up the town, And make full many a bitter pill go down. Conscious of this, our bard has gone about, And teaz'd each rhyming friend to help him out. An epilogue, things can't go on without it; It could not fail, would you but set about it. Young man, cries one (a bard laid up in clover), Alas! young man, my writing days are over; Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw, not I; Your brother doctor there, perhaps, may try. What I! dear Sir, the doctor interposes; What, plant my thistle, Sir, among his roses ! No, no, I've other contests to maintain; To-night I head our troops at Warwick-lane. Go ask your manager Who, me! Your pardon; Those things are not our forte at Covent Garden. Our author's friends, thus plac'd at happy distance, Give him good words indeed, but no assistance. As some unhappy wight at some new play, At the pit door stands elbowing away;
While oft, with many a smile', and many a shrug,
PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE:
Spoken by Mr. Quick, in the Character of a Sailor.
(Upper Gallery There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em
[Pit. Here trees of stately size — and billing turtles in 'em
Here ill-conditioned oranges abound
[Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground. [Tasting them. The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear: I heard a hissing - there are serpents here! 0, there the people are best keep my distance; Our Captain, gentle natives! craves assistance; Our ship 's well-stor’d; in yonder creek we've laid her; His honour is no mercenary trader. This is his first adventure; lend him aid, And we may chance to drive a thriving trade. His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far, Equally fit for gallantry and war. What! no reply to promises so ample ? I'd best step back — and order up a sample.
MRS. BUL KLE Y.
Hither the affected city dame advancing,
and yet some pity fix,
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES.
ADVERTISEMENT. The following may more properly be termed a compilation than a poem. It was prepared for the composer in little more than two days; and may therefore rather be considered as an industrious effort of gratitude than of genius. In justice to the composer it may likewise be right to inform the public, that the music was composed in a period of time equally short.
OVERTURE. A solemn Dirge.
And waken every note of woe!
Mere transitory things:
Blest spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloom, Shall spread and flourish from the tomb; How hast thou left mankind for Heaven! E'en now reproach and faction mourn, And, wondering how their rage was born, Request to be forgiven! Alas! they never had thy hate; Unmoy'd in conscious rectitude, Thy towering mind self-centred stood, Nor wanted man's opinion to be great. In vain, to charm thy ravish'd sight, A thousand gifts would fortune send; In vain, to drive thee from the right, A thousand sorrows urged thy end :