Thespis, inventor of dramatic art,

Convey'd his vagrant actors in a cart,

High o'er the crowd the mimic tribe appear'd,

And play'd and sung, with lees of wine besmear'd.

HOR.

Then Æschylus a decent vizard used,

Built a low stage; the flowing robe diffused;

In language more sublime two actors rage,

And in the graceful buskin tread the stage.

HOR.

The comic poets, in its earliest age,
Who form'd the manners of the Grecian stage-
Was there a villain who might justly claim
A better right of being damn'd to fame,
Rake, cut-throat, thief, whatever was his crime,
They boldly stigmatised the wretch in rhyme.

HOR.

With passions not my own who fires my heart,
Who with unreal terrors fills my breast,

As with a magic influence possess'd.

But God and man, and letter'd post denies
That poets ever are of middling size.

Poets would profit or delight mankind,

And with the amusing show the instructive join'd.

Profit and pleasure, mingled thus with art,
To soothe the fancy, and improve the heart.

At ease reclined beneath the verdant shade,
No more shall I behold my happy flock
Aloft, hang browsing on the tufted rock.

HOR.

VIRG.

These on the mountain billows hung: to those
The yawning waves the yellow sand disclose.

The woes of Troy once more she begg'd to hear;
Once more the mournful tale employ'd his tongue,
While in fond rapture on his lips she hung.

In shrill-toned murmurs sang the twanging bow.

Whate'er, when Phœbus bless'd the Arcadian plain,
Eurotas heard, and taught his boys the strain,
The senior sung-

Say, heavenly muse, their youthful frays rehearse;
Begin, ye daughters of immortal verse ;

VIRG.

VIRG.

ном.

VIRG.

Exulting rocks have own'd the power of song,
And rivers listen'd as they flow'd along.

VIDA.

The wave that bore him, backward shrank appall'd.

RACINE.

But Turnus, chief amidst the warrior train,

In armour towers the tallest on the plain.

The Ganges thus, by seven rich streams supplied,

A mighty mass, devolves in silent pride.

Thus Nilus pours from his prolific urn,

When from the fields o'erflow'd his vagrant streams return.

So Philomela from the umbrageous wood

In strains melodious mourns her tender brood,

VIRG.

Snatch'd from the nest by some rude Phrygian's hand,
On some lone bough the warbler takes her stand;

The livelong nights she mourns the cruel wrong,
And hill and dale resound the plaintive song.

For as a watchman, from some rock on high,
O'er the wide main extends his boundless eye,
Through such a space of air with thundering sound,
At every leap the immortal coursers bound.

So joys the lion, if a branching deer,
Or mountain goat, his bulky prize appear.
In vain the youths oppose, the mastiffs bay-
The lordly savage rends the panting prey.
Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound,
In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground.

East, west, and south engage with furious sweep,
And from its lowest bed upturn the foaming deep.

HOM.

HOM.

VIRG.

The sail then Boreas rends with hideous cry,
And whirls the maddening billows to the sky.

VIRG.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HER LATE ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES,

Spoken and Sung in the Great Room, Soho Square, Thursday, the 20th of February, 1772.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The following may more properly be termed a compilation than a poem. It was prepared for the composer in little more than two days; and may therefore rather be considered as an industrious effort of gratitude than of genius.

In justice to the composer it may likewise be right to inform the public, that the music was adapted in a period of time equally short.

SPEAKERS.

MR. LEE AND MRS. BELLAMY.

SINGERS.

MR. CHAMPNES, MR. DINE, AND MISS JAMESON.

The Music prepared and adapted by SIGNOR Vento.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.

OVERTURE-A SOLEMN DIRGE. AIR-TRIO.

ARISE, ye sons of worth, arise,

And waken every note of woe!

When truth and virtue reach the skies,

'Tis ours to weep the want below.

CHORUS.

When truth and virtue, &c.

MAN SPEAKER.

The praise attending pomp and

The incense given to kings,

power,

Are but the trappings of an hour—

Mere transitory things.

The base bestow them: but the good agree

To spurn the venal gifts as flattery.

But when to pomp and power are join'd

An equal dignity of mind;

When titles are the smallest claim;

When wealth, and rank, and noble blood,

But aid the power of doing good,—

Then all their trophies last-and flattery turns to fame.
Blest spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloom,

Shall spread and flourish from the tomb,
How hast thou left mankind for heaven!
Even now reproach and faction mourn,
And, wondering how their rage was born,
Request to be forgiven !