Classic Poem

You look surpriz'd, in this deriding Age,
To find that Love dares venture on the Stage;
Where you, of late seem nothing to approve,
But what, in Men of Sense, Contempt must move;
That after all your Concerts, Farces, Shows,
You must attend a dying Lover's Woes.

I know you'll be amaz'd at what I mean,
In all my Height of Fortune to complain:
Ador'd by Monarchs, and an Emp'ror's Bride,
You'll say, I need not in a Fret have dy'd.
Forbear; nor witless Jests on Love employ,
Alike unknowing in its Pain and Joy:
When you despise its Happiness or Woe,
You but your Want of Sense, or Virtue, show:
Be humane then; be touch'd with Scenes refin'd,
Which, while they raise the Passions, mend the Mind:
And, by your Pity of my Woes To-night,
Convince the World, your Hearts are form'd aright.

Or, if you scorn to hear what I advise,
Let great Examples teach you to be wise.
Lovers are not so out of Fashion here,
That Athenais blushes to appear:
As fam'd a Pair adorns this Isle and Age,
As ever cou'd each other's Heart engage;
Endow'd with ev'ry Grace of Form and Mind,
To raise the Love and Wonder of Mankind:
Tho' bless'd with ev'ry Gift to merit Fame,
Their highest Glory is their mutual Flame:
A Flame, like that my tender Bosom fir'd;
But rul'd by Reason, and by Heav'n inspir'd:
Their Love like mine, but diff'rent far their Fate;
As happy they, as I unfortunate.
But my Distress had never reach'd the Stage,
Had Heav'n reserv'd me to the present Age:
None would have dar'd my Fondness to abuse,
Had I from beauteous WORSLEY learnt to chuse;
Nor I my Heart on rash VARANES set,
Had I, like her, but known a CARTERET.