To Mr. DERRICK,

Upon his recalling his Orders againf dancing Miniets in Sacks.

By DAVID GARRICK, Efq.

Le

Be not given to wrath,

Thy rigours the fair fhould not feel;

Stil fix them your debtors,

Make laws like your betters,

And as fast as you make them-RÉPEAL,

VOL. IX.

ODE for his MAJESTY'S Birth-day, June 4, 1766,

H

AIL to the man, fo fings the Hebrew bard,

Whofe numerous offspring grace his genial board:
Heaven's faireft gift, Heaven's belt reward,

To thofe who honour, who obey his word.
What fhall he fear tho' drooping age

Unnerve his ftrength, and pointlefs finks his fpear;
In vain the proud, in vain the mad fhall rage;
He fears his God, and knows no other fear.
Lo! at his call a duteous race

Spring eager from his lov'd embrace,
To fhield the fire from whom their virtues rofe;
And fly at each rever'd command,
Like arrows from the giant's hand,
In vengeance on his foes.

So Edward fought on Creffy's bleeding plain,
A blooming hero, great beyond his years,
So William fought--but ceafe the ftrain,
A lofs fo recent bathes the mufe in tears.
So fhall hereafter every fon,-

Who now with prattling infancy relieves
Thofe anxious cares which wait upon a throne,
Where, ab too oft, amidit the myrtles, weaves
The thorn its pointed anguih-

Shall every youth his duty know

-So

To guard the Monarch's right, and people's weal;
And thou, great George, with juft regard

To Heaven, fhalt own the Hebrew bard

But fing the truths you feel.

S

Bleft be the day which gave thee birth!,

Let others tear the ravag'd earth,

And fell Ambition's powers appear
In ftorms, which defolate the

year.

Confefs'd thy milder virtues fhine,
Thou rul'ft indeed, our hearts are thine.
By flender ties our kings of old

Their fabled right divine would vainly hold.
Thy jufter claim ev'n Freedom's fons can love,

The King who bends to Heav'n, muft Heaven itself approve.

ODE for his MAJESTY'S Birth-Day.

Performed at the Castle of Dublin, on the 4th of June.

W

RECITATIVE.

Here-e'er Hibernia's tuneful lyre is ftrung,

Let Royal GEORGE's birth be fung;

By honeft gratitude infpir'd,

Let every loyal heart be fir'd,
And with an undiflembling voice,
Awak'd by duty and by choice,
Let all the fons of Liberty rejoice.

RECITATIVE.

But fee, that name immortal to ad‹rn,

What future crowds fhall yearly tribute pay:
Think, mighty Prince, what numbers yet unborn
Shall blefs the dawn of this aufpicious day.

AIR.

Fir'd with the thought, the mufe, transported, flies
Thro' the bright fcenes of ages yet to rife,
In ev'ry region charm'd to find

Her King inroll'd

With chiefs of old,

The great delivers of mankind

RECITATIVE.

Hear, gracious Heav'n, our pious pray'r,
Long be our Monarch's life thy care.

DUET and CHORUS.

Prais'd for ever be the day
Which, propitious
To our wishes,

Calls forth the tributary lay.
Heav'n preferve to our poffeffing
Still fecure the mighty bleffing.
Happy thus beyond expreffing,
Ever let us hail the day.

The SHEPHERD'S LIFE preferred.

Da Capo.

Da Capo.

Imitated from the Greek of Mofchus.

WH

HEN western breezes fan the fhore,
And gently fwell the azure wave;

I yield unto the foft'ning pow'r:

(The mufe's tranfports then would grieve).

When loud the thick'ning tempefts fly,
Enrage, and dafh the foaming floods;
From the rude fcene I trembling hie,
And plunge into the fafer woods.

Nor fea, nor deaf'ning din, is there,
The ftormy fury ftraight does please;

I hear it founding from afar;

It fings or murmurs through the trees.

$ 2

A fisherman

A fisherman I would not live,

Who labours in the pathless deep;
Whose cruel art is to deceive,
Whofe dwelling is a brittle fhip.

Let me my bleating ewes attend,
(Harmlefs my felf, and blefs'd as they);
With them my morning fteps I'll bend,
With them I'll wait the clofing day.

Now, underneath a plane-tree laid,
Or careles by a lulling ftream,
Let me enjoy the cooling fhade,
Or fweetly fink into a dream,

ELEGY to a PINE TREE,

TOW to the rofy-finger'd train of May,

NOW

At length the dreary hours of winter yields:
No more the hoar-froft chills the new-born day,
No more the wild winds blaft the flow'ry field.

Now from yon orchard, lovely to the fight!
A balmy fragrance breathe the zephyrs bland!
While in luxuriant foliage, proudly dight,
The facred fathers of the foreft stand.

Behold yon pine, that lifts its filver head,
Deep in the bofom of the pathlefs glade:
Who now, to wander where its branches fpread,
Will quit the fragrance of the vernal shade?

Yet when the blooming beauties of the wood,
By winter chill'd, their leafy glories yield,
Thy boughs fuperior to the ftorm have stood,
And flourish'd, verdant 'midst the ruffet field,

Mindful of this, my votive hands fhall cull

Each product fair of April's fruitful fhow'rs,
From each gay fhrub its blushing honours pull,
And on thy branches hang the various flow'rs!

And here, when Phoebus gilds the rifing day,
I'll often strike with grateful hand the lyre;
lay,
And thou, 'midft vernal groves, fhalt hear a
Which friendship, faith, and conftancy inspire,

H. P.

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE Spoken by Mr. PowELL, and faid to be written by on the opening of the Bristol Theatre.

Mr. G

BE

EFORE you fee, one of your ftage-directors;
Or, if you pleafe, one of thofe ftrange projectors,
Whofe heated brain, in fatal magic bound,
Seeks for that ftone which never can be found:
But in projection comes the dreadful stroke,
The glaffes burft, and all is bounce and smoke!
Though doubtful fill our fate-I bite my thumbs,
And my heart fails me-for projection comes;

Your Imiles would chace our fears-ftill I could dream;
Rich as a Nabob, with my golden scheme!

That all the world's a stage, you can't deny ;
And what's our ftage?-a fhop-I'll tell you why:
You are the coftomers, the tradesmen we;
And well for us, you pay before you see ;
We give no truft, a ready money trade;
Should you ftop payment, we are bankrupts made.
To feaft your minds, and footh each worldly care,
We'll LARGELY traffic in dramatic ware;

Then fwells our shop, a warehoufe to your eyes,
And we, from fmall retailers, merchants rife !
From Shakespear's golden mines we'll fetch the ore,
And land his riches on this happy shore!
For we, theatric merchants, never quit
His boundlefs ftores of univerfal wit!
But we, in vain, fhall richly-laden come,
Unless deep water brings us fafely home;
Unless your favour in full tides will flow,
Ship, crew, and cargo, to the bottom go!
Indulge us then, and from our hearts receive
Our warmest wishes ;-all we have to give.
May honour'd commerce, with her fails unfurl'd,
Still bring you treasures from each distant world;
From Eaft to Weft, extend this city's name,
Still to her fons increafing wealth with fame.
And may this merit be our honest boast,.
To give you pleasure, and no virtue loft!

EPILOGUE.

N days of yore, it was a conftant rule,

and Fool:

When forth the Hero went, they follow'd after-
One bore his field; the other rais'd his laughter