Classic Poem

NAT . Lee — for Buskins fam'd — would often say,
To Stage-Success He had a certain Way;
Something for all the People must be done,
And, in some Circumstance, each Order won;
This He thought easy, as to make a Treat,
And for a Tragedy gave this Receipt:

Take me, said He, a Princess Young and Fair,
Then take a Blooming Victor flush'd with War;
Let him not owe, to vain Report, Renown,
But in the Lady's Sight cut Squadrons down;
Let Him whom they themselves saw win the Field,
Him to whose Sword they saw whole Armies yield,
Approach the Heroine with dread Surprize,
And own no Valour Proof against bright Eyes:
The Boxes are Your own — the Thing is hit;
And Ladies, as they near each other sit,
Cry Ah, How movingly that Scene is writ!
For all the Rest, with Ease, Delights you'll shape,
Write for the Heroes in the Pit — a Rape:
Give the First Gallery a Ghost — on th' Upper,
Bestow, tho at this distance, a good Supper .
Thus, all their Fancies, working their own Way,
They're Pleas'd, and think they owe it to the Play.

But the Ambitious Author of these Scenes,
With no low Arts to court your Favour means.
With Her Success, and Disappointment move,
On the just Laws of Empire, and of Love!

— In wanton Ease — ye Britons , learn to know,
Nor slight, in present Welfare, distant Woe!
Rescu'd from foreign Bonds, the happy Age
Sees no Abuse of Power, but on the Stage:
The Briton here, beholds the Tyrant bleed,
The Just thro' all the Mazes of their Fate succeed;
Our opening Earth, and our descending Sky,
Our Bowl, our Dagger, ready Wrath supply,
And, at the Poet's Nod, Kings reign or die.
On such dire Forms, long shall this happy Isle,
As only Stage-Events, in Safety Smile;
While her great King magnificently spares,
Conquers, and wins, and Deeds of Grace prepares!
On Dungeon -Guilt, He Gleams of Mercy throws
And his each Action Heav'n's Vicegerent shows.