AN EPIGRAM

ADDRESSED TO THE GENTLEMEN REFLECTED ON IN THE ROSCIAD, A POEM, BY THE AUTHOR.

Worried with debts, and past all hopes of bail,
His pen he prostitutes t'avoid a gaol.

ROSCOM.

LET not the hungry Bavius' angry stroke
Awake resentment, or your rage provoke-
But pitying his distress, let virtue* shine,
And giving each your bounty,† let him dine.
For thus retained, as learned council can,
Each case, however bad, he'll new japan;
And by a quick transition, plainly show
'Twas no defeat of yours, but pocket low,
That caused his putrid kennnel to o'erflow.

SCENE-The Banks of the River Euphrates near Babylon.

ACT THE FIRST.

FIRST PROPHET.-RECITATIVE.

YE captive tribes, that hourly work and weep
Where flows Euphrates murmuring to the deep-
Suspend your woes awhile, the task suspend,
And turn to God, your father and your friend :
Insulted, chained, and all the world our foe,
Our God alone is all we boast below.

And though no temple richly dress'd,

Nor sacrifice is here

We'll make his temple in our breast,
And offer up a tear.

ISRAELITISH WOMAN.

That strain once more! it bids remembrance rise,
And brings my long lost country to mine eyes:
Ye fields of Sharon, dress'd in flowery pride;
Ye plains where Kedron rolls its glassy tide;
Ye hills of Lebanon, with cedars crown'd;
Ye Gilead groves, that fling perfumes around:
How sweet those groves! that plain how wond'rous fair!
How sweeter still when Heaven was with us there!

Air.

O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,

Still importunate and vain,

To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain;

Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe!

And he who wants each other blessing,

In thee must ever find a foe.

FIRST PROFHET.-RECITATIVE.

Yet why repine? What though by bonds confined,
Should bonds repress the vigour of the mind?
Have we not cause for triumph, when we see
Ourselves alone from idol worship free?

Are not, this very morn, those feasts begun
Where prostrate error hails the rising sun?
Do not our tyrant lords this day ordain

For superstitious rights and mirth profane?
And should we mourn? Should coward virtue fly,
When vaunting folly lifts her head on high?
No? rather let us triumph still the more—
And as our fortune sinks, our spirits soar.

Air.

The triumphs that on vice attend
Shall ever in confusion end;

The good man suffers but to gain,
And

every virtue springs from pain:
As aromatic plants bestow

No spicy fragrance while they grow;
But crush'd, or trodden to the ground,
Diffuse their balmy sweets around.

SECOND PROPHET.-RECITATIVE.

But hush, my sons, our tyrant lords are near,
The sounds of barbarous pleasure strike mine ear;
Triumphant music floats along the vale,

Near, nearer still, it gathers on the gale:

The growing sound their swift approach declares Desist, my sons, nor mix the strain with theirs.

Enter CHALDEAN PRIESTS attended.

Air.

FIRST PRIEST.

Come on, my companions, the triumph display,
Let rapture the minutes employ;

The sun calls us out on this festival day,
And our monarch partakes in the joy.

Like the sun, our great monarch all rapture supplies;
Both similar blessings bestow :

The sun with his splendour illumines the skies;
And our monarch enlivens below.

Air.

CHALDEAN WOMAN.

Haste, ye sprightly sons of pleasure,
Love presents the fairest treasure,
Leave all other joys for me.

A CHALDEAN ATTENDANT.

Or rather, love's delights despising,
Haste to raptures ever rising,

Wine shall bless the brave and free.

FIRST PRIEST.

Wine and beauty thus inviting,
Each to different joys exciting,

Whither shall my choice incline?