They all conspired this mighty man to raise,
And your new subjects proudly shares the praise.
All share: but may not we have leave to boast,
That we contemplate and enjoy it most?
This ancient nurse of arts, indulged by Fate
On gentle Isis' bank, a calm retreat,
For many rolling ages justly famed,

Has through the world her loyalty proclaimed;
And often poured (too well the truth is known!)
Her blood and treasure to support the throne;
For England's church her latest accent strained,
And freedom with her dying hand retained;
No wonder then her various ranks agree
In all the fervencies of zeal for thee.

What though thy birth a distant kingdom boast,
And seas divide thee from the British coast?
The crown's impatient to enclose thy head;
Why stay thy feet! The cloth of gold is spread.
Our strict obedience through the world shall tell,
That king's a Briton who can govern well.

VERSES.

Occasioned by that famous piece of the
CRUCIFIXION.

DONE BY MICHAEL ANGELO.*

WHILE his Redeemer on his canvass dies,
Stabbed at his feet his brother weltering lies;
The daring artist, cruelly serene,

Views the pale cheek and the distorted mien;
He drains off life by drops, and, deaf to cries,
Examines every spirit as it flies:
He studies torment; dives in mortal wo;
To rouse up every pang, repeats his blow;
Each rising agony, each dreadful grace,
Yet warm, transplanting to his Saviour's face.
O glorious theft! O nobly wicked draught!
With its full charge of death each feature fraught!
Such wondrous force the magic colours boast,
From his own skill he starts, in horror lost.

AN HISTORICAL EPILOGUE
TO THE BROTHERS.

BY THE AUTHOR.

AN Epilogue through custom is your right,
But ne'er perhaps was needful till this night.
To-night the virtuous falls, the guilty flies;
Guilt's dreadful close our narrow scene denies.

In history's authentic record read
What ample vengeance gluts Demetrius' shade!
Vengeance so great, that, when his tale is told,
With pity some e'en Perseus may behold.
Perseus survived, indeed, and filled the throne,
But ceaseless cares in conquest made him groan:
Nor reigned he long; from Rome swift thunder
flew,

And headlong from his throne the tyrant threw:
Thrown headlong down, by Rome in triumph led,
For this night's deed his perjured bosom bled:
His brother's ghost each moment made him start,
And all his father's anguish rent his heart.

When, robed in black, his children round him
hung,

And their raised arms in early sorrow wrung;
The yonger smiled, unconscious of their wo,
At which thy tears, O Rome! began to flow,
So sad the scene: What then must Perseus feel,
To see Jove's race attend the victor's wheel?
To see the slaves of his worst foes increase
From such a source !-an emperor's embrace?
He sickened soon to death; and, what is worse,
He well deserved, and felt the coward's curse;
Unpitied, scorned, insulted his last hour,
Far, far from home, and in a vassal's power.
His pale cheek rested on his shameful chain,
No friend to mourn, no flatterer to feign.
No suit retards, no comfort sooths his doom,
And not one tear bedews a monarch's tomb.
Nor ends it thus-Dire vengeance to complete,
His ancient empire falling, shares his fate.
His throne forgot! his weeping country chained!
And nations ask-where Alexander reigned?
As public woes a prince's crimes pursue,
So public blessings are his virtue's due.
Shout, Britons! shout;-auspicious fortune bless!
And cry, Long live-our title to success!

ЕРІТАРН

ON LORD AUBREY BEAUCLERK,*
In Westminster Abbey, 1740.
WHILST Briton boasts her empire o'er the deep,
This marble shall compel the brave to weep:

* Lord Aubrey Beauclerk was the eighth son of the Duke of St. Alban's, who was one of the sons of King Charles the Second. He was born in the year 1711, and being regularly bred to the sea-service, in 1731 he was appointed to the command of his Majesty's ship the Ludlow Castle; and he commanded the Prince Frederick at the attack of the harbour of Carthagena, March 24, 1741. This young nobleman was one of the most promising commanders in the King's service. *Who obtained leave to treat a malefactor, condemned to be When on the desperate attack of the castle of Bocca Chica, at broke upon the wheel, as he pleased for this purpose. The the entrance of the said harbour, he lost his life, both his legs man being extended, this wonderful artist directed that he being first shot off. The prose part of the inscription on his should be stabbed in such parts of the body as he apprehended monument, was the production of Mrs. Mary Jones, of Ox. would occasion the most excruciating torture, that he might ford, who also wrote a Poem on his death, printed in her Misrepresent the agonies of death in the most natural manner. cellanies, 8vo. 1752.

THE REVENGE;

A Tragedy;

AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

DON ALONZO,

DON CARLOS,

DON ALVAREZ,

DON MANUEL,
ZANGA,

LEONORA,

ISABELLA.

SCENE-Spain.

THE REVENGE.

ACT I.

And thought me not dishonoured by his service.
One day, may that returning day be night,
The stain, the curse of each succeeding year!
For something, or for nothing, in his pride
He struck me. While I tell it, do I live?

He smote me on the cheek—I did not stab him;
For that were poor revenge-
-e'er since, his folly

Has strove to bury it beneath a heap

Of kindnesses, and thinks it is forgot.
Insolent thought! and like a second blow!
Affronts are innocent, where men are worthless;
And such alone can wisely drop revenge.

Isa. But with more temper, Zanga, tell your story;
To see your strong emotions startles me.

Zan. Yes, woman, with the temper that befits it. Has the dark adder venom? so have I

SCENE I—BATTLEMENTS, WITH A SEA PROSPECT. When trod upon. Proud Spaniard, thou shalt

Enter ZANGA.

feel me !

Zan. Whether first nature, or long want of For from that day, that day of my dishonour,

peace,

Has wrought my mind to this, I can not tell;
But horrors now are not displeasing to me:
[thunder.

I like this rocking of the battlements.
Rage on, ye winds, burst, clouds, and waters, roar!
You bear a just resemblance of my fortune,
And suit the gloomy habit of my soul.

Enter ISABELLA.

Who's there? my love!

Isa. Why have you left my bed?

Your absence more affrights me than the storm.
Zan. The dead alone in such a night can rest,
And I indulge my meditations here.
Woman, away. I choose to be alone.

Isa. I know you do, and therefore will not leave
you;

Excuse me, Zanga, therefore dare not leave you.
Is this a night for walks of contemplation?
Something unusual hangs upon your heart
And I will know it: by our loves I will.
Το

you I sacrificed my virgin fame.

Ask I too much to share in your distress?

I from that day have curst the rising sun,
Which never failed to tell me of my shame.
I from that day have blest the coming night,
Which promised to conceal it; but in vain;
The blow returned for ever in my dream.
Yet on I toiled, and groaned for an occasion
Of ample vengeance; none is yet arrived.
Howe'er, at present I conceive warm hopes
Of what may wound him sore, in his ambition,
Life of his life, and dearer than his soul.
By nightly march he purposed to surprise
The Moorish camp; but I have taken care
They shall be ready to receive his favour,
Failing in this, a cast of utmost moment,
Would darken all the conquests he has won.
Isa. Just as I entered an express arrived.
Zan. To whom?

Isa. His friend, Don Carlos.
Zan. Be propitious,

Oh, Mahomet, on this important hour,
And give at length my famished soul revenge!
What is revenge, but courage to call in
Our honour's debts, "and wisdom to convert
Other's self-love into our own protection?"

Zan. In tears? thou fool! then hear me and be But see, the morning dawns;

Great let me call him, for he conquered me,
Made me the captive of his arm in fight.

He slew my father, and threw chains o'er me,

While I with pious rage pursued revenge.

Car. Alonzo's glory, and the Moors' defeat.
The field is strewed with twice ten thousand slain,
Though he suspects his measures were betrayed.
He'll soon arrive. Oh, how I long to embrace
The first of heroes, and the best of friends!

I loved fair Leonora long before

1 then was young, he placed me near his person,The chance of battle gave me to the Moors,

From whom so late Alonzo set me free;
And while I groaned in bondage, I deputed
This great Alonzo, whom her father honours,
To be my gentle advocate in love,

To stir her heart, and fan its fires for me.
Man. And what success?

Car. Alas, the cruel maid

Indeed her father, who, though high at court,
And powerful with the king, has wealth at heart
To heal his devastation from the Moors,
Knowing I'm richly freighted from the east,
My fleet now sailing in the sight of Spain,
Heaven guard it safe through such a dreadful
storm;

Caresses me, and urges her to wed.

Man. Her aged father, see,

Leads her this way.

Car. She looks like radiant truth,
Brought forward by the hand of hoary time-
You to the port with speed, 'tis possible
Some vessel is arrived. Heaven grant it bring
Tidings which Carlos may receive with joy!

Enter DON ALVAREZ and LEONORA.

Car. Disobey him,

Rather than come thus coldly, than come thus
With absent eyes and alienated mien,
Suffering address, the victim of my love.
Oh, let me be undone the common way,
And have the common comfort to be pitied,
And not be ruined in the mask of bliss,
And so be envied, and be wretched too!
Love calls for love. Not all the pride of beauty,
Those eyes that tell us what the sun is made of,
Those lips, whose touch is to be bought with life,
Those hills of driven snow, which seen are felt;
All these possessed, are nought, but as they are
The proof, the substance of an inward passion,
And the rich plunder of a taken heart.

Leon. Alas, my lord, we are too delicate;
And when we grasp the happiness we wished,
We call on wit to argue it away:

A plainer man would not feel half your pains:
But some have too much wisdom to be happy.
Car. Had I known this before, it had been well:
I had not then solicited your father

To add to my distress; as you behave,
Your father's kindness stabs me to the heart.
Give me your hand-nay, give it, Leonora:

Alv. Don Carlos, I am labouring in your favour You give it not-nay, yet you give it not

With all a parent's soft authority,

And earnest counsel.

Car. Angels second you!

For all my bliss or misery hangs on it.

Alv. Daughter, the happiness of life depends
On our discretion, and a prudent choice;
Look into those they call unfortunate,

And closer viewed, you'll find they are unwise:
Some flaw in their own conduct lies beneath,
And 'tis the trick of fools to save their credit,
Which brought another language into use.
Don Carlos is of ancient, noble blood,

And then his wealth might mend a prince's fortune.
For him the sun is labouring in the mines,
A faithful slave, and turning earth to gold.
His keels are freighted with that sacred power,
By which even kings and emperors are made.
Sir, you have my good wishes, and I hope (to Car.)
My daughter is not indisposed to hear you. [Exit.
Car. Oh, Leonora! why art thou in tears?
Because I am less wretched than I was?
Before your father gave me leave to woo you,
Hushed was your bosom, and your eye serene.
Will you for ever help me to new pains,
And keep reserves of torment in your hand,
To let them loose on every dawn of joy?

I ravish it.

Leon. I pray, my Lord, no more.

Car. Ah, why so sad? you know each sigh does shake me :

Sighs there, are tempests here.

I've heard, bad men would be unblest in heaven:
What is my guilt, that makes me so with you?"
Have I not languished prostrate at thy feet?
Have I not lived whole days upon thy sight?
Have I not seen thee where thou hast not been?
| And, mad with the idea, clasped the wind
And doated upon nothing?

Leon. Court me not,

Good Carlos, by recounting of my faults,
And telling how ungrateful I have been.
Alas, my lord, if talking would prevail,
I could suggest much better arguments
Than those regards you threw away on me;
Your valour, honour, wisdom, praised by all.
But bid physicians talk our veins to temper,
And with an argument new-set a pulse;
Then think, my Lord, of reasoning into love.

Car. Must I despair then? do not shake me thus:
My temper-beaten heart is cold to death.
Ah, turn, and let me warm me in thy beauties.
Heavens! what proof I gave, but two nights past,

Leon. Think you my father too indulgent to me, Of matchless love! to fling me at thy feet,

That he claims no dominion o'er my tears?
A daughter sure may be right dutiful,
Whose tears alone are free from a restraint.

Car. Ah, my torn heart!

Leon. Regard not me, my Lord,

I shall obey my father.

I slighted friendship, and I flew from fame;
Nor heard the summons of the next day's battle:
But darting headlong to thy arms, I left
The promised fight, I left Alonzo too,
To stand the war and quell a world alone.
(Trumpets.)

Leon. The victor comes My lord, I must with- My friend, and never was a friend more dear,

(embracing him.)

Car. A victory indeed! your godlike arm
Has made one spot the grave of Africa;
Such numbers fell! and the survivors fled
As frighted passengers from off the strand,
When the tempestuous sea comes roaring on them.
Alon. 'Twas Carlos conquered, 'twas his cruel
chains

Inflamed me to a rage unknown before,
And threw my former actions far behind.
Car. I love fair Leonora. How I love her!
Yet still I find, I know not how it is,
Another heart, another soul for thee.
Thy friendship warms, it raises, it transports
Like music, pure the joy, without allay,
Whose very rapture is tranquillity:
But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss,
Heightened indeed beyond all mortal pleasures;
But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.

Enter ZANGA.

In a late action, rescued from the Moors,

I have brought home my rival in my friend.
Zan. We hear, my lord, that in that action too,
Your interposing arm preserved his life.

Alon. It did-with more than the expense of
mine;

For, oh, this day is mentioned for their nuptials.
But see, she comes-I'll take my leave, and die.

Zan. Had'st thou a thousand lives, thy death
would please me.

Unhappy fate! my country overcome!
My six years hope of vengeance quite expired!-
Would nature were-I will not fall alone:
But others' groans shall tell the world my death.
[aside and exit.

Enter LEONORA.

Alon. When nature ends with anguish like to
this,

Sinners shall take their last leave of the sun,
And bid his light adieu.

Leon. The mighty conqueror

Dismayed! I thought you gave the foe your sor

rows.

Alon. Oh, cruel insult! are those tears your
sport,

Which nothing but a love for you could draw?
Afric I quelled, in hope by that to purchase
Your leave to sigh unscorned; but I complain not;

Zan. Manuel, my lord, returning from the port, 'Twas but a world, and you are-Leonora.
On business both of moment and of haste,
Humbly begs leave to speak in private with you.
Car. In private! ha! Alonzo, I'll return;
No business can detain me long from thee. [exit.
Zan. My lord Alonzo, I obeyed your orders.
Alon. Will the fair Leonora pass this way?
Zan. She will, my lord, and soon.
Alon. Come near me, Zanga;
For I dare to open all my heart to thee.
Never was such a day of triumph known.
There's not a wounded captive in my train,
That slowly followed my proud chariot wheels,
With half a life, and beggary, and chains,
But is a god to me: I am most wretched.-
In his captivity, thou know'st, Don Carlos,

Leon. That passion which you boast of is your
guilt,

A treason to your friend. You think mean of me,
To plead your crimes as motives of my love.

Alon. You, madam, ought to thank those crimes
you blame:

'Tis they permit you to be thus inhuman,
Without the censure both of earth and heaven-
I fondly thought a last look might be kind.
Farewell, for ever.—'
-This severe behaviour
Has, to my comfort, made it sweet to die.

Leon. Farewell, for ever!-sweet to die!-oh,
heaven!
[aside]
Alonzo, stay; you must not thus escape me;
But hear your guilt at large.