Thus fir'd, the Brave on to the Danger prefs;
Their Arms were crown'd Abroad with juft Success,
And bleft at home with Beauty and with Peace.
PROLOGUE. Spoken by Mr. WILKS, at the Revival of the Play, Nov. 5. 1716.
WELL are you met to fee what Thanks we pay,
To him, who fav'd us on this glorious Day.
The Tefter Sun the happy Hero bore,
And the next gave him to Britannia's Shore;
As if Heav'n's Care wou'd have it understood,
His firft Employment here was Publick Good.
From him our Author ftrove his Prince to paint;
And tho' his Strokes are weak, and Colours, faint,
Yet take once more his Labours in good Part,
And fpare bad Numbers for an honeft Heart.
Oh! may the great Original furvive,
And in our grateful Thoughts for ever live;
His Praife our Children's Children fhall confefs,
And Ages yet to come Immortal William bless.
Behold how thick his Bounties round us croud,
Our Freedom, Laws and Peace, by him beftow'd:
He our old Line of Conqu'ring Kings reftor'd,
And gave us from Plantaganet a Lord;
Our Royal George, at whofe rever'd Commands,
To jufter Leagues fubmit the neighb'ring Lands,
And mend the wicked Work of bungling Hands.
Nor is his Goodness to his own confin'd,
But giv'n a genral Largefs to Mankind.
See how kind Providence has fent him forth,
To plant his Olives in the Frozen North;
To bid the rage of barb'rous Nations ceafe,
And footh the rugged Vandal World to Peace.
Oh! when will he the Publick Foy reftore,
And chear his Britain's long-expecting Shore!
Oh! when, indulgent to the filial Pray'r
Will be relieve the Royal Youth from Care;
Receive the Scepter from his duteous Hand,
And bless the pious Guardian of the Land?
Then fhall that Rebel Race, whofe Pow'r lies low,
Whofe Stubborn Necks with Indignation bow,
No more with fruitless Rage the Land moleft,
their Country in her King be bleft:
His wifh'd Return fubmiffive shall they meet,
And weep Repenting at his gracious Feet;
No longer let his Mercy loft complain,
But fhew him that he has not spar'd in vain.
SCENE, Tamerlane's Camp, near Angoria in Galatia.
SCENE before Tamerlane's Tent.
Enter the Prince of Tanais, Zama and Mirvan,
Prince of TAN AIS.
AIL to the Sun! from whofe returning
Light
The chearful Soldier's Arms new Luftre take,
To deck the Pomp of Battle. Oh,my Friends!
Was ever fuch a glorious Face of War?
See, from this Height! how all Galatia's Plains
With Nations numberlefs are cover'd o'er;
Who, like a Deluge, hide the Face of Earth,
And leave no Object in the vaft Horizon,
But glitt'ring Arms, and Skies.
Zam. Our Afian World
From this important Day expects a Lord,
This Day they hope an End of all their Woes,
Of Tyranny, of Bondage, and Oppreffion,
From our Victorious Emp'ror, Tamerlane.
Mir. Well has our Holy Alha mark'd him out
The Scourge of lawless Pride, and dire Ambition,
The great Avenger of the groaning World.
Well has he worn the facred Cause of Justice
Upon his profp'rous Sword: approving Heav'n
Still crown'd the Righteous Warrior with Succefs;
As if he said, Go forth, and be my Champion,
Thou most like me of all my Works below.
Pr. No Luft of Rule, the common Vice of Kings,
No furious Zeal infpir'd by hot-brain'd Priests,
Ill hid beneath Religion's fpecious Name,
E'er drew his temp'rate Courage to the Field:
But to redress an injur'd People's Wrongs,
To fave the weak One from the strong Oppreffor,
Is all his End of War; and when he draws
The Sword to punish, like relenting Heav'n,
He feems unwilling to deface his Kind.
Mir. So rich his Soul in every virtuous Grace,
That, had not Nature made him Great by Birth,
"Yet all the Brave had fought him for their Friend:
The Chriftian Prince Axalla, nicely bred
In polish'd Arts of European Courts,
For him forfakes his native Italy,
And lives a happy Exile in his Service.
Pr. Pleas'd with the gentle Manners of that Prince, Our mighty Lord is lavish to his Friendship;
Tho' Omar, and the Tartar Lords repine,
And loudly tax their Monarch as too partial.
Zam. E'er the mid Hour of Night, from Tent to Tent Unweary'd, thro' the num'rous Hoft he paft,
Viewing with careful Eyes each fev'ral Quarter;
Whilft from his Looks, as from Divinity,
The Soldiers took prefage, and cry'd, Lead on,
Great Alha, and our Emperor, Lead on,
To Victory, and Everlafting Fame.
Mir. Hear you of Bajazet ?
Pr. Late in the Evening
A Slave, of near Attendance on his Perfon,
'Scap'd to our Camp: From him we learn'd, the Tyrant
With Rage redoubled, for the Fight prepares;
Some accidental Paffion fires his Breaft,
(Love, as 'tis thought, for a fair Grecian Captive)
And adds new Horror to his native Fury:
For five returning Suns, fcarce was he feen
By any the most favour'd of his Court,
But in lafcivious Eafe, among his Women,
Liv'd from the War retir'd; or else, alone
In fullen mood fat meditating Plagues,
And Ruin to the World, 'till yefter Morn,
Like Fire that lab'ring upwards rends the Earth,
He burft with Fury from his Tent, commanding
All fhould be ready for the Fight, this Day.
Zam. I know his Temper well, fince, in his Court
Companion of the brave. Axalla's Embaffy,
I oft obfery'd him, Proud, Impatient
Of ought Superior, ev'n of Heav'n, that made him,
Fond of falfe Glory, of the favage Pow'r
Of ruling without Reafon, of confounding
Juft, and Unjuft, by an Unbounded Will;
By whom Religion, Honour, all the Bands-
That ought to hold the jarring World in Peace,
Were held the Tricks of State, Snares of wife Princes
To draw their eafie Neighbours to Destruction.
Mir. Thrice, by our Law and Prophet, has he Sworn,
|