HILE you the fierce divided Britons awe,
And Cato with an equal virtue draw,
While Envy is itself in Wonder loft,
And Factions strive who fhall applaud you moft;
Forgive the fond ambition of a friend,
Who hopes himself, not you, to recommend,
And join th' applaufe which all the Learn'd befor
On one, to whom a perfect work they owe.
To my light Scenes I once infcrib'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.
*Tender Husband, De
dicated to Mr. Addison.
HO' Cato fines in Virgil's epick song,
Preferibing laws among th' Elyfian throng ;
Tho' Lucan's verfe, exalted by his name,
O'er Gods themselves has rais'd the Heroe's fame;
The Roman Atage did ne'er his image fee,
Drawn at full length; a task referv'd for thee.
By thee we view the finish'd figure rife,
And awful march before our ravish'd_eyes;
We hear his voice, afferting virtue's caufe ;
His fate renew'd our deep attention draws,
Excites by turns our various hopes and fears,
And all the patriot in thy fcene appears.
On Tyber's banks thy thought was firft infpir'd,
'Twas there, to fome indulgent grove retir'd,
Rome's ancient fortunes rolling in thy mind,
Thy happy Mufe this manly work defign'd:
Or in a dream thou faw'ft Rome's Genius fiand,
And, leading Cato in his facred hand,
Point out th' immortal fubject of thy lays,
And ask this labour to record his praise.
'Tis done the Heroe lives, and charms our age!
While nobler morals grace the British stage!
Great Shakespear's ghoft, the folemn ftrain to hear,
(Methinks I fee the laurell'd Shade appear!)
Will bower o'er the Scene, and wond'ring view
His fav'rite Brutus rival'd thus by you.
Such Roman greatness in each action fines,
Such Roman eloquence adorns your lines,
That fure the Sibyls books this year foretold,
And in fome myftick leaf was feen inroll'd,
Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Africk's fhore, • Nor in her fands thy Cato's tomb explore! • When thrice fix hundred times the circling Sun • His annual race shall thro' the Zodiack run, An Ifle remote his monument shall rear, • And ev'ry gen'rous Briton pay a tear.
HAT do we feel is Cato then become
A greater name in Britain than in Rome?
Does mankind now admire his virtues more,
Tho' Lucan, Horace, Virgil wrote before?
How will Pofterity this truth explain?
"Cato begins to live in Anna's reign :
The World's great chiefs, in council or in arms,
Rife in your lines with more exalted charms;
Illuftrious deeds in diftant nations wrought,
And virtues by departed Heroes taught,
Raife in your foul a pure immortal flame,
Adorn your life, and confecrate your fame ;;
To your renown all ages you fubdue,
And Cæfar fought, and Cato bled for you.
IS nobly done thus to enrich the flage,
And raife the thoughts of a degenerate age,
To show, how endless joys from freedom spring:
How life in bondage is a worthless thing.
The inborn greatness of your foul we view,
You tread the paths frequented by the few.
With so much strength you write, and so much ease,
Virtue, and fenfe! how durft you hope to please?
Yet crowds the fentiments of every line
Impartial clap'd, and own'd the work divine,
Even the four Criticks, who malicious came,
Eager to cenfure, and refolv'd to blame,
Finding the Heroe regularly rife,
Great, while he lives, but greater when he dies,
Sullen approv'd, too obftinate to melt,
And ficken'd with the pleasures, which they felt.
Not fo the Fair their paffions fecret kept,
Silent they heard, but as they heard, they wept,
When gloriously the blooming Marcus dy'd,
And Cato told the Gods, I'm fatisfy'd.
See! how your lays the British youth inflame!
They long to shoot, and ripen into fame ;
Applauding theatres diflurb their reft,
And unborn Cato's heave in every breaft;
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