Mark the gall'd and hollow Eye,
Never clos'd, and never dry;
Mark the Heavings of his Breast,
Stranger to a Moment's Rest.
If Thy yielding Heart can melt,
Throbbings if it ever felt ;
If an Object of Distress
Soften Thee to Tenderness
Dear Unkind, Yon Captive fee,
Pity Him, and Think of me.
To Sir RICHARD STEELE.
On his Comedy, The CONSCIOUS LOVERS. Ccept the Muse, which Love and Wonder [raile
To hail thy Labours, and attend thy Praise ; Her lowlier Voice, amidst th' applauding Throng, O deign to hear, and patronize her Song:
What Thou approv'ft, That She aspires to be,
And only lives to Virtue, and to Thee.
Too long have Pride, Impiety, and Rage,
And all the Pomp of Vice ufurp'd the Stage;
Our Modern Mufe made modern Ways her Choice,
And lent to Scenes impure her Heav'nly Voice;
Alike degenerate both, the Stage and Times
Tranfpos'd and authoriz'd each other's Crimes,
Each still reflected each, with mutual Skill,
And vy'd in all th' Alternatives of Ill.
[Shame, "Tis Thine, O Steele, to touch the Mufe with To point her Course, and call forth antient Fame. To teach the Stage whence nobleft Praise should And bring Angelic Virtue to our Eyes : On Vice triumphant Thou difdain't to fawn, And art the Chriftian Heroe thou haft drawn. To mend Mankind has been thy constant Aim, Fond to Inform, but fonder to Reclaim.
Hence lately thy Spectators charm'd the Age,
Hence now thy Conscious Lovers grace the Stage.
Such Lovers as folicit Virtue's Cause,
And fill our Theatre with juft Applause;
In Them each Sex their true Perfections view,
Each have the loveliest Pattern to pursue.
The British Fair, thy finish'd Model shown,
By Indiana's Conduct set their own;
Our Youths their darling Fopp'ries all resign,
And own th' Accomplish'd Man at last is Thine.
On thy Designs what Revolutions wait!
Thou great Restorer of the Moral State.
All Manners, fee! to Thy Decrees submit,
Nor Rage is Honour, nor Grimace is Wit;
The Hate of Morals, and the Scorn of Arts,
Distinguish now no more the Man of Parts.
Esteem forfakes the Arrogant and Vain,
And recognizes Merit once again;
The World no longer Right and Wrong confounds, And Vice and Virtue know their antient Bounds.
So fome moft exquifite Machine (defign'd
Perhaps in Archimede's or Tycho's Mind)
If by Abuse, and our Defect of Art,
It move irregular in every part,
Explor'd by Newton's Philofophic Eyes,
Through all its Movements into Order flys ;
Again instructs the Mind, and charms the Sight,
While correfponding Nature speaks it right.
Pursue thy darling Theme, with pious Care,
And gratulate, O Mufe, the happy Fair.
No longer They precarious Loves commence,
The Men that please are now the Men of Senfe;
None will the Good and Innocent explode,
Since Probity and Confcience pass to Mode;
Only the Worthy dare to Beauty fue,
And loveliest Hearts are deftin'd for the true.
Again are heard the learn'd, and view'd the plain; And Fops and Beaux are trifling now in vain. See! Truth and Honour fway the female Breast And Toasts themselves vouchfafing to be blest.
Proceed, O Steele! thefe Bleffings to impart,
And be thy Hand as bounteous as thy Heart.
Long may'st Thou live, at last to leave behind
More Copies still of thy extensive Mind:
More of thy felf, much more Q yet bestow,
Ere Thou art what thy Addifon is now.
When his great Soul attain'd the Seats Divine,
Her other self remain'd, and fhone in thine
But when thy meritorious Toils fhall end,
And Thou shalt pass to Glory and thy Friend,
Mankind Thy total Absence must bemoan,
And trace their Guardian in thy Works alone.
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