While Angels with their silver wings o'ershade
The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.

So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,
What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.
How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not,
To whom related, or by whom begot;
A heap of dust alone remains of thee,
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung,
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays,
Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays;
Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,
And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,

The Muse forgot, and thou be lov'd no more!

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PROLOGUE

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MR ADDISON'S TRAGEDY OF CATO.

[Addison's Cato which the author had kept by him in an unfinished state for seven years was produced at Drury Lane on April 14th, 1713; eleven days after the news had reached London of the definitive conclusion of the Peace of Utrecht. The Whigs attempted to identify Cato with the faithful remnant of their own party which still upheld the glories and liberties of the past; while the Tories sagaciously refused to recognise the analogy, and vied with the Whigs in applauding the play, Bolingbroke presenting Booth, who performed Cato, with fifty guineas 'in acknow ledgment for defending the cause of liberty so well against a perpetual dictator.' Addison disclaimed all political design, and waived the profits of the performances of the tragedy which continued for a month in London, and then recommenced at Oxford. See Cibber's account in the Apology. The epilogue was written by Garth, who dwelt chiefly on those amatory episodes in the play, which Schlegel has so successfully ridiculed. As to the relations between Pope and Addison see Introductory Memoir.]

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:
For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage,
Commanding tears to stream thro' ev'ry age;
Tyrants no more their savage nature kept,
And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move
The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;

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In pitying Love, we but our weakness show,
And wild Ambition well deserves its woe.
Here tears shall flow from a more gen'rous cause,
Such Tears as Patriots shed for dying Laws:
He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise,
And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes.
Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws,
What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was :
No common object to your sight displays,
But what with pleasure Heav'n itself surveys',
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
And greatly falling, with a falling state.
While Cato gives his little Senate laws,
What bosom beats not in his Country's cause?
Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry deed?

Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Ev'n when proud Cæsar 'midst triumphal cars,
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,
Ignobly vain and impotently great,

Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;
As her dead Father's rev'rend image past,
The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'ercast;
The Triumph ceas'd, tears gush'd from ev'ry eye;
The World's great Victor pass'd unheeded by;
Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd,
And honour'd Cæsar less than Cato's sword.
Britons, attend: be worth like this approv'd2,
And show, you have the virtue to be mov'd.
With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd
Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd;
Your scene precariously subsists too long

On French translation, and Italian song.

Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage,
Be justly warm'd with your own native rage:
Such Plays alone should win a British ear,
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear 3.

1But what with pleasure] This alludes to a famous passage of Seneca, which Mr. Addison afterwards used as a motto to his play, when it was printed. Warburton. [It is taken from Sen. de Divin. Prov. and runs as follows: 'Ecce spectaculum dignum, ad quod respiciat, intentus operi suo, Deus! Ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum malâ fortunâ compositus! Non video, inquam, quid habeat in terris Jupiter pulchrius, si convertere animum velit, quam ut spectet Catonem, jam paribus non semel fractis, nihilominus inter ruinas publicas erectum.']

Britons, attend] Mr. Pope had written it arise, in the spirit of Poetry and Liberty; but Mr. Addison frighten'd at so daring an expression, which, he thought, squinted at rebellion, would have it alter'd, in the spirit of Prose and Politics, to attend. Warburton.

3 As Cato's self, etc.] This alludes to the famous story of his going into the Theatre, and immediately coming out again, related by Martial. Warburton. [Martial. Lib. 1. Epigr. 1.]

EPILOGUE

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MR ROWE'S' JANE SHORE.

Designed for Mrs Oldfield.

[ROWE's play of Jane Shore, which is only partly founded on history, was first acted Feb. 2, 1714, at Drury Lane. The character of Gloucester in this play is taken straight out of Shakspere. Great expectations were formed of the tragedy; and it was acted for nineteen nights. See (Geneste's) Account of the English Stage, The famous Mrs Oldfield supported the part of the heroine, but Pope's Epilogue was never spoken.]

II. 524.

PRODIGIOUS this! the Frail-one of our Play
From her own Sex should mercy find to-day!
You might have held the pretty head aside,
Peep'd in your fans, been serious, thus, and cry'd,
The Play may pass-but that strange creature, Shore,
I can't indeed now-I so hate a whore-

Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull,
And thanks his stars he was not born a fool;
So from a sister sinner you shall hear,

"How strangely you expose yourself, my dear!"
But let me die, all raillery apart,

Our sex are still forgiving at their heart;
And did not wicked custom so contrive,
We'd be the best good-natur'd things alive.
There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale,
That virtuous ladies envy while they rail;
Such rage without betrays the fire within:
In some close corner of the soul, they sin;
Still hoarding up, most scandalously nice,
Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice.

The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns,

Scolds with her maid, or with her chaplain crams.

Would you enjoy soft nights and solid dinners?

Faith, gallants, board with saints, and bed with sinners.

Well, if our Author in the Wife offends,

He has a Husband that will make amends,
He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving,

And sure such kind good creatures may be living.

[Nicholas Rowe born in 1673, died in 1718. He was a friend of Addison's; and did good service to the cause of dramatic literature by his edition of Shakspere, accompanied by a biography. In his own plays he adopted blank verse in lieu of the heroic couplet established by

Dryden; but has nothing else to approach him to the Elisabethan tragedians. He is perhaps happiest in the delineation of female passion and weakness; but his Fair Penitent is a mere adaptation from Massinger.]

In days of old, they pardon'd breach of vows,
Stern Cato's self was no relentless spouse:
Plu-Plutarch, what's his name that writes his life?
Tells us, that Cato dearly lov'd his Wife:
Yet if a friend, a night or so should need her,
He'd recommend her as a special breeder.
To lend a wife, few here would scruple make,
But pray, which of you all would take her back!
Tho' with the Stoic Chief our stage may ring,
The Stoic Husband was the glorious thing.
The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true,
And lov'd his country-but what's that to you?
Those strange examples ne'er were made to fit ye
But the kind cuckold might instruct the City:
There, many an honest man may copy Cato,
Who ne'er saw naked sword, or look'd in Plato.
If, after all, you think it a disgrace,

That Edward's Miss thus perks it in your face;
To see a piece of failing flesh and blood,
In all the rest so impudently good;

Faith, let the modest Matrons of the town

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Come here in crowds, and stare the strumpet down.

50

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