Show me the warring wafp, whofe threat'ning wing I dare not frike at, and provoke his fting! Shoals are fought harbours, where thefe jewels grow. The fwans, mean while, which from the calmer Forfaken, faw him trust the fatal tide; Mournful, with pendent wing, his triumph griev'd, And wish'd his wafted vigour lefs deceiv'd: Trembling they mark'd his veffel downward bent, Hang o'er th' engulfing oceans's dark defcent, While he, regardless ftill, new trophies won, And bent to conquer, faw not what to fhun. Fancy ftill bufied, ftill enamour'd, staid, And still concurring, lent his rafhness aid; To her far diftant, touch'd Alexis cry'd, And with ftrain'd voice, to reach her notice try'd: "O! fave him, warn him, bid him turn and think, "Let not his bark in yon black ocean fink! "Teach me to call him by his pow'rful name, "Point out his danger, quench his devious flame; "Rafh fpleen of heart, that could fuch war ad vife! Blind rage! to lofe himself and catch but flies! "Oh teach my tongue his name:"-Then fancy heard, And smiling, at her chariot's fide appear'd : Why doft thou afk, fhe cry'd, what nations know, "Even all whom wit or worth inspire below? "His is a name that dwells on ev'ry mind, "Tunes every tongue, and fails with every wind! "Not furer is that river life's extent, "Or by thofe oceans birth, and death, "Not furer fortune, is that dark pow'r's name, "That left oblivion, and that right fide fame. Than that, no fon of wit dares juftly hope, Fame dwell in folly's paths, but thou, O POPE! Alexis ftarting, heard his own lov`d name, Felt his pride fhrink, and blufh'd with confcious Pitch'd from the chariot, loft to fancy's call, And deep intomb'd him in his own profound. THE ART OF ACTING. DEDICATED TO THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. Wuy fleep the filent pow'rs that guard the stage, Mourn it, ye fons of spleen, whofe hands (miftaught) Tore up this feed of fenfe, this plant of thought: Whence reafoning fhoots might bloom life's garden o'er, And weedy wildness choke her walks no more.— There the touch'd heart, in fecret filence chid, Might learn to hate the guilt it once but hid: There, fcorn from note of pity's praise-catch There heedlefs beauty, warn'd of man's falfe fire, Might chain down wav'ring love, and edge defire: Each maid's mild eye correct her heart's warm truft, Dull perts grow penfive, and false thinkers just. There (now) fits mummery, thron'd on paffion's urn! There noifier fires than wit's (unbright'ning) burn: Vain the loft pray'r that courts a muse's aid, Happier lerne mourn our drains no more; Yet, while home ruin wrings the heart distreft, 'Tis recompence to fall for others bleft: Lefs thy doom'd distance (foul of absent joys) Pains the hook realm, whofe hope it half deftroys; Confcious thou go'ft to warm one fifter's fears To transports, lafting as the others tears. Long in fad filence on the willows hung, Now the refumes her harp, for praise new ftrung: Tires her tun'd hand to pour her grateful foul, Wide as her chief can charm, from pole to pole. Genius, from ages hers, 'midft want and wrongs, How will the now tranfcend past poets fongs! At once of every nations grace made free, By every added mufe, beftow'd with thee! There, 'midft the toils of empire's manag'd weight, Find a calm hour to lend the stage thy care, Banish'd from court, from fenate, city, scene, The time shall come (not far the destin'd day) Tafteful ev'n now, there want not fome choice few view: Whofe hope-warm'd hearts can hail the diftant Hearts that the fubject's lov'd importance know, And feel the fire they bear with confcious glow. Why was the actor ftain'd by law's decree? Off to due distance half ye italking train! How fhall this goal be reach'd, that, seen most Still glides more distant from th' advancing eye? Like the sky's fea-dipt arch, heaven's fancied bound, For ever fail'd to, and yet never found. Arduous the task, and afks a climbing brain, A head for judgment, and a heart for pain, E'er fenfe, imprefs'd, reflects adopted forms, And changeful nature shakes with borrow'd storms; E'er ductile genius turns as paffions wind, And bends to fancy's curve the pliant mind. Mark when th' expanding feed from earth's moist bed, Starting at nature's call, prepares to fpread; [cend First, the prone root breaks downward, thence afShot items, whofe joints collateral boughs extend: Twigs from those boughs lend leaves-cach leaf contains Side-lefs'ning ftalks, transvers'd by fibry veins. See art's short path!tis eafy to be found, Winding delightful through the mazy round! Tempt the try d fkill, to no fole proof confin'd; Shift the fhort fhadowings o'er your figur'd mind. Mournful, recal fome friend's lamented fate; Sad on each feature hangs the mind's felt weight. Seek you frong sense of joy? looks first impart, Then the nerve ftricture bounds it from the heart: Does rage inflame? no vifage can conceal What the mark'd mufcle bids the fpirit feel: Still as the nerves constrain the looks obey, And what the look enjoins the nerves difplay: Mutual their aid, reciprocal their strain, Will but commanding, face and nerves explain. Light'ning and thunder, fo concurring, ftrike; One their joint origin, though form'd unlike : So to the look th' attentive nerves reply, As from the flash fucceeding thunders fly. 'iis caufe and confequence; nor flows more grace From beauty's fmile than the touch'd actor's face: Poife the rule's practice; turn it o'er and o'er; Nor think it tedious, though conceiv'd before: 'Tis but to look and will. Th' imprinted eye Moves the ftruck mufcles, and the limbs comply: Gefture is meaning's ape-grave, furious, gay, Changeful as cloud-form'd fhapes when winds make way; Imag'd conception first, but face inflames, Is there who doubts an art thus briefly shown? Call out proof's pow'r, and make that art his own: Bid him, with mournful brow, fwell founds of joy, Half the mock'd fenfe th' unbracing nerves de ftroy: Tun'd to the tearful ey's retentive woc, Painfully plaintful, each flat note fhall die, Vainly mouth'd menace fwells th' attempted form, Kind as confent th' unfright'ning accents form: While his look frown'd not, fenfe could found but fweet; 'd: No nerve concurring help'd th' unfinew'd heat. But had his eyes th' impatient fire display'd, Each note had fnatch'd it, and each stop convey'd Thus one plain practice paints whole nature right, And all her changeful pictures move delight. Is there who loves not joy?-There then begin, Search the foul-pleafing paffion's pow'r within; Find your fmile's force before fome faithful glafs, Heedful to let no faint impreffion pafs: [train, There to touch'd gladness thought-form'd features 'Till each crisp'd fibre feels th' enrapt'ring ftrain; Then (ftretch'd) behold your op'ning forehead Back'ning in boastful sense of sparkling eyes. [rife, Broadly majeftical your breast expands, Brac'd your prefs'd joints-neck, knee, feet, fhoulders, hands, Treading on air, each step new foul displays, Your limbs all lighten, and your looks all blaze: Then speak,-joy anfwers; every found its own; Mufic and rapture mix'd in transport's tone! Fall from this height (ah! 'tis but fortune's road!) Down to deep fenfe of forrow's pungent goad; And fighing pityers catch th' infectious pains. Say, fhould fome flack'ner of the paffion's care, Form'd for gay flights, and struggling from defpair, Bow'd from his native bent to doubt's new part, Let his eye lodge him-'twill prepare his breast. brace; This road and that th' alarmful paffion tries, Anger is pride provok'd (fo felt, so known), fight, 'Twixt the heart's anguish and the help's delight: Then touch'd attention's hark'ning hush creeps round, And breathlefs mouths devour th' expected found. Nature lofes change-Cold night fucceeds to And pity's dark'ning oppofite is fcorn: [morn, Far be this brow-ftretch'd arrogance of air From mifery's doomful claim, in fons of care. Ah! minds (too apt) turn but the look within, We find pride's image there as fure as fin! Yet with fuch bias rolls man's will from right, That fearch firft miffes what is most in fight: Elfe how unneedful to defcribe a rage No player wants power to feel-but on the ftage, Cautious (life's speaking picture) wear that ftain, Rightly to fhow be thine, but not retain ! Clofe-following fcorn, amazement ought to rife; light, Shudd'ry, the back'ning blood, revolving fwift, Clogs the prefs'd heart-stretch'd fibres fail to lift: Loft in doubt's hard'ning froft, fept motion lies, While fenfe climbs gradual to the Training eyes. Hatred is fullen fury long retain'd; 'Tis willing mischief warily reftrain'd; 'Tis thought's corrofion acridly perplex'd; 'Tis felf in pain, left others live unvex'd. This to touch vivid-(pencil! pleas'd and free, Paint the coil'd ferpent thou abhorr st to fee.) Veil the malignant leer that burns with fpite, Bid the brow's leur o'erhang the fick'ning fight; Swell the blown cheek, th' unopening lip reftrain; Stretch'd the wide noftril marks th' impatient pain. Ardent, yet heedlefs, half th' averted eye Skims the loath'd object, and difdains it nigh. Hard back-brac'd nerves in fett'iy fervour toil, And the curv'd fyftem heaves in check'd recoil. Haft from taught pain---fhun hatred's baneful fhade, And to love's funfhine lend the mufe's aid. Love is intenfe defire, by rev'rence check'd; 'Tis hope's hot tranfport, freak'd with fear's refpe&t; 'Tis paffion's every foul-felt power disjoin'd; 'Tis all th' affembled train's whole force combin'd. 'Tis like foft air, through which admitted light Peoples pleas'd fancy, and lends fhape to fight: Yet, like that air disturb'd, man's quiet breaks, Tempefts his reason, and his triumph fhakes. You who infufe this pow'r muft firft have felt; Dumb carneft gaze tongues o'er th' unvocal face: care; It paints and warns for every beauty there: Eyes the braw'd íwaggerer, and rejects her ware. Trifler for cards and contradictions born! By the rais'd footstep and exalted chin? Py the big, broad, round, mellow, trounding troll, Shame on the whineling, fleep-induЯive tone! Heart, voice, mein, vifage, all pay love their aid, Say, female fhades of love, who haunt the flage, What fiend, clofe-treading, tags defire with rage? If in your hofpitable bofoms bred, Th' unrefting fury thrives, by beauty fed, Tell the dire name---But if you filent feel Th' impreffive tooth, and no gnaw'd thought reveal, [bite, Speak, tell-tale mufe. Thou fhar'ft th' envenom'd For jealoufy ne er fleeps when poets write. The Janus jealousy two faces wears, Each diff'ring, apt as form'd by diff'rent cares; While infant-wing`d the callow harpy lies, Too dim for daylight, too unfledg'd to rife: 'Tis doubt-mix'd anger, ftruggling to confide, Floating half-funk on pity's pleading tide: Here hope-fed foftnefs foothes the affiant heart, There rage vindictive bids the spirit smart: 'Twixt the two wav'ring scales, by turns depreft, The eye's fhort wand'rings mark the mind difreft; Languidly ftrung, flow-nerv'd, half-finewy ftrain, Paints an unfettled, half-determin'd pain: Whence rous'd refentment, catching hafty flame, Cool'd by met pity, blufhes into flame: But does weigh'd proof confirm th' ideal wrong, Then the eye lightens, and the brace binds ftrong; Not vengeance burns more turbulently stern, Though (through it) pain'd affection figh.s concern. Thus has the mufe, in paffion's changeful dress, Led ent'ring art through nature's dark recefs; Fair to her eye one fource of action shown, Brief let precision's feale contract the view; Feel the thought's image on the eyeball roll; HIGH in thy ftarry orb, Great ruling planet of our brighten'd sphere, Fearless to fall, my rein-loos'd fancy foars Infpir'd like angels by the worth fhe fings. Yet, Oh! mistake not my alpiring lays; They would but speak my duty, not your praise; Praifes like yours, who lives and does not know; The poorest debtors count the fums they owe; But I, impatient of the growing score, Would pay you fomething ere I owe you more. Accept, great guider of the ftormy state, An off'ring worthy of the brave and great: Accept what heav'n, propitious for your fake, Smiles on this peace-blefs'd land, and bids her take: This art of old had been some altars due, Now, fir'd with purer zeal, she kneels to you. That awful pow'r who guards our Anna's throne, Whose known efteem of arts gave birth to thee, Omen of greater, which e'er long shall be. Thy pious hand, which made war's thunder ceafe, Shall cultivate the nobler arts of peace; Till murm'ring faction owns, with thankless joy, 'Tis far more great, to build than to destroy. Nor fhall thy rifing country's fons alone, Shall now no more reproach our injur'd foil; Nor this alone! on, on, prophetic fire! Fir'd with the fure prefage, methinks I fee fpread, And take the fwift Sabrina to his bed. Dear, to thy care, ev'n th' unhoping Scot |