If Belvidera her lov'd lofs deplore, Why for twin spectres burfts the yawning floor? Poet and Actor thus, with blended skill, Mould all our passions to their instant will; 'Tis thus, when feeling Garrick treads the stage, (The fpeaking comment of his Shakespear's page) Oft as I drink the words with greedy ears, I shake with horror, or diffolve with tears. O, ne'er may folly feize the throne of taste, Nor dulnefs lay the realms of genius waste ! No bouncing crackers ape the thund'rer's fire, No tumbler float upon the bending wire f More natural uses to the ftage belong, ! Than tumblers, monfters, pantomime, or fong. For For other purpose was that spot design'd : And while it charms the ear to mend the heart. Thornton, to thee, I dare with truth commend, The decent stage as virtue's natural friend. Tho' oft debas'd with fcenes profane and loose, No reason weighs against it's proper use. Tho' the lewd prieft his facred function shame, Religion's perfect law is ftill the fame. Shall They, who trace the passions from their rise, Shew scorn her features, her own image vice? Who teach the mind it's proper force to scan, And hold the faithful mirror up to man, Shall their profeffion e'er provoke disdain, Who ftand the foremost in the mortal train, Who lend reflection all the grace of art, And strike the precept home upon the heart? Yet, Yet, hapless Artift! tho' thy fkill can raise And latest times th' Eternal Nature feel. Tho' blended here the praise of bard and play'r, The mien that gave each sentence strength and grace, To To GEORGE COLMAN, Efq. A FAMILIAR EPISTLE. Written Jan. 1, 1761. From Tiffington in Derbyshire. RIENDSHIP with most is dead and cool, FRIENDSHIP A dull, inactive, ftagnant pool; Yours like the lively current flows, And fnatch the wretched from defpair, From friendship's fource the balfam flows. Rich then am I, poffeft of thine, Who know that happy balfam mine. In youth, from nature's genuine heat, Cements the man in future life! Oft Oft too the mind well-pleas'd furveys Whether a bleffing, or a curse, As he, whofe lines and circles vie |