SONG. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, To former joys recurring ever, Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing, A PROLOGUE, WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS, A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CAESAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE. PRESERVED BY MACROBIUS1. WHAT! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage, 1 This translation was first printed in one of our author's earliest works, "The present State of Learning in Europe," 12mo. 1759. Unaw'd by pow'r, and unappal'd by fear, With honest thrift I held my honour dear: But this vile hour disperses all my store, And all my hoard of honour is no more; For, ah! too partial to my life's decline, Cæsar persuades, submission must be mine; Him I obey, whom heav'n himself obeys, Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please. Here then at once I welcome ev'ry shame, And cancel at threescore a life of fame ; No more my titles shall my children tell, The old buffoon will fit my name as well; This day beyond its term my fate extends, For life is ended when our honour ends. When wise astronomers to India steer, And quit for Venus many a brighter here; With Scythian stores and trinkets deeply laden, To make an observation on the shore. Where are we driven? our reck'ning sure is lost! This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast, Lord! what a sultry climate am I under! Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder: [Upper gallery. There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em [Pit. Here trees of stately size-and billing turtles in 'em Here ill-condition'd oranges abound— [Balconies. [Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground: Th' inhabitants are cannibals I fear: [Tasting them. I heard a hissing-there are serpents here! His honour is no mercenary trader. This is his first adventure; lend him aid, And we may chance to drive a thriving trade. His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from far, Equally fit for gallantry and war. What, no reply to promises so ample? -I'd best step back-and order up a sample. |