Classic Poem

WRITTEN FOR A PRIVATE THEATRE, AND SPOKEN BY

HORATIO.

T O night, the sympathising heart will find
A lawless passion, in a gen'rous mind!
Parents may learn to hear great Nature's voice,
T'advise their children, not oppose their choice.
Her love first sanction'd by a father's name,
Calista had been free from vice and shame;
Nor, on the stormy sea of passions toss'd,
Had peace, had life and virtue all been lost!
Oh! may each tender maid avoid the snare
That wily libertines will still prepare;
Nor think that man can ever constant prove
Who deems it glorious to deceive in love;
Who gains the first affections of the breast,
And plants a thorn where innocence had rest:
Then leaves the fair, betray'd by basest art,
And meanly triumphs o'er a yielded heart!
Those female eyes, where purest honour shines,
Bright as the sparkling gem from Orient mines!
May, guiltless, view their sex's frailties here,
And yet bedew them with a pitying tear;
Superior virtue should compassion shew,
And feel for weakness it can never know;
O'er a poor sister's errors cast a shade,
By too much love and tenderness betray'd!
My moral finish'd, I would fain retire,
But first our prompter charg'd me to enquire
If any Pseudo-critic here is found,
Who feels a pleasure to inflict a wound?
Who, lest the world should take him for a fool,
Deals much in blame, and aukward ridicule;
Who shoots his arrows with a wanton hand,
And censures what he does not understand;
His plaudits too have neither sense, nor choice,
And are but echos to the public voice.
From such we're free, for all our friends to night
Will see our merits in the fairest light;
And when our faults too glaringly arise,
Our wish to please will make them shut their eyes;
For many a fear disturbs our little band, —
Sciolto's dagger trembles in his hand;
Calista's cares are doubled on her head,
And sighing Altamont is almost dead:
The gallant gay Lothario blushes too,
('Tis the first time, for lawyer's seldom do!)
And e'en Horatio, who should know no fear,
Finds more than all his courage wanting here.
But one reflection drives our cares away,
Friendship's the best of Prologues to our Play!