If I have done amifs, impute it not!
The beft may err, but you are good, and-oh! [Dies.
LUCIU S.
There fled the greatest foul that ever warm'd
A Roman breaft; O Cato! O my friend!
Thy will fhall be religiously observ'd.
But let us bear this awful corps to Cæfar,
And lay it in his fight, that it may ftand
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath;
Cato, tho' dead, fhall ftill protect his friends.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil difcord flow.
'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms,
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and ftrife,
And robs the Guilty world of Cato's life.
HAT odd fantaftick things we women do!
Who wou'd not liften when young lovers woo?
But die a maid, yet have the choice of two!
Ladies are often cruel to their coft;
To give you pain, themselves they punish moft.
Vows of virginity fhould well be weigh'd;
Too oft they're cancell'd, tho' in convents made.
Would you revenge fuch rafh refolves—you may:
Be Spiteful and believe the thing we fay;
We hate you when you're eafily faid nay.
How needlefs, if you knew us, were your fears?
Let Love bave eyes, and Beauty will have ears.
Our hearts are form'd as you yourselves would chuse,
Too proud to ask, too humble to refuse:
We give to merit, and to wealth we fell;
He fighs with most fuccefs that fettles well.
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix ;
'Tis beft repenting in a coach and fix.
Blame not our conduct, fince we but purfue Thofe lively leffons we have learn'd from you: Your breasts no more the fire of beauty warms, But wicked wealth ufurps the power of charms; What pains to get the gaudy thing you hate! To fwell in show, and be a wretch in flate! At plays you ogle, at the ring you bow; Even churches are no fan&uaries now: There, golden idols all your vorvs receive, She is no goddess that has nought to give. Oh, may once more the happy age appear, When words were artless, and the thoughts, fincere ; When gold and grandeur were unenvy'd things, And courts lefs coveted than groves and springs. Love then fhall only mourn when truth complains, And conflancy feel transport in its chains. Sighs with fuccefs their own foft anguish tell, And eyes fall utter what the lips conceal: Virtue again to its bright flation climb, And beauty fear no enemy but time ; The fair fall liften to defert alone, And every Lucia find a Cato's fon.
To Her ROYAL HIGHNESS the
PRINCESS of WALES,
With the Tragedy of CATO. Nov. 1714.
HE Mufe that oft, with facred raptures fir'd,
Has gen'rous thoughts of Liberty inspir'd,
And, boldly rifing for Britannia's laws,
Engage'd great Cato in her country's caufe,
On You fubmiffive waits, with hopes affur'd,
By whom the mighty bleffing stands fecur'd,
And all the glories, that our age adorn,
Are promis'd to a people yet unborn.
No longer fhall the widow'd land bemoan
A broken lineage, and a doubtful throne;
But boaft 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 fmile,
Supplying charms to the fucceeding age,
Each heavenly Daughter's triumphs we prefage;
Already fee th' illuftrious youths complain,
And pity Monarchs doom'd to figh in vain.
Thou too, the darling of our fond defires,
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 confpire
The mother's fweetnefs, and the father's fire!
For thee perhaps, even now, of kingly race
Some dawning beauty blooms in every grace,
Some Carolina, to heaven's dictates true,
Who, while the fcepter'd rivals vainly fue,
Thy inborn worth with confcious eyes
fhall fee,
And flight th' Imperial diadem for thee.
Pleas'd with the profpect of fucceffive reigns,
The tuneful tribe no more in daring strains
Shall vindicate, with pious fears oppreft,
Endanger'd rights, and liberty diftreft:
To milder founds each Muse shall tune the lyre,
And gratitude, and faith to Kings infpire,
And filial love; bid impious difcord cease,
And footh 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 Cafar's power with Cato's virtue join'd.
Mean-while, bright PRINCESS, who, with graceful eafe And native majesty are form'd to please,
Behold thofe Arts with a propitious eye,
That fuppliant to their great protectress fly!
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