POETRY. 433
May this fad fcene improve each Briton's heart ! Roufe him with warmth to aft a Briton's part 1 Prompt him with Sparta's nobleft fons to vie ; To hve in glory, and in freedom die I
Epilogue to Agis. Spoken hy Mrs* Pritchard.
A King in bloom of youth for freedom die !— — Our bard, tho' bold, durft not have foar'd fo high. This is no credulous admiring age j But facred fure the faith of Plutarch's page.
In fimple Ityle that ancient fage relates
The tale of Sparta, chief of Grecian ftates :
Eight hundred years it flourifh'd, great in arras.
On dangers rofe, and grew amidft alarms.
Of Sparta's triumph you have heard the caufe.
More ftrong, more noble, than Lycurgus' laws :
How Spartan dames, by Glory's charms infpir'd.
The fon, the lover, and the hufband fir'd.
Ye fair of Britain's ide, which juftly claims
The Grecian title, land of lovely dames.
In Britain's caufe exert your matchlefs charms.
And roufe your lovers to a love of arms.
Hid, not extincft, the fpark of valour lies ;
Your breath (hall raife it flaming to the flcies.
Now Mars his bloody bannner hangs in air. And bids Britannia's fons for war prepare ; Let each lov'd maid, each mother bring the fhield. And arm their country's champions for the field. Arm'd and infiam'd each Britifli breaft (hall burn. No youth unlaurel'd Ihall to you return. Then (hall we ceafe t' exult at trophies won. In Glory's field, by heroes— —not our own. France then fhall tremble at the Britifli fword. And dread the vengeance of her ancient Lord.
\
Prologue to the Tragedy o/'Cleone, by William Melmoth, Efyi Spoken hy Mr. Ross.
'^TpWAS once the mode inglorious war to wage X With each bold bard that durft attempt the ftage.
And prologues were but preludes to engage.
Then mourn'd the Mufe, not ftory'd woes alone,
Condemn'd, with tears unfeign'd, to weep her own.
Paft are thofe hoftile days : and wif: no more
One undiftinguifti'd fate with fools deplore.
No more the Mufe laments her long-fek wrongs.
From the rude licence of tumultuous tongues j Vol. I. F f U
