Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Tickell (1781).djvu/105

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Miscellanies.
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Tho' crown'd with fame they dare not think it due,
Nor take the laurel till bestow'd by you. 26
Great Cato's self, the glory of the stage!
Who charms, corrects, exalts, and fires, the age,
Begs here he may be try'd by Roman laws;
To you, O Fathers! he submits his cause: 30
He rests not in the people's gen'ral voice
Till you the senate have confirm'd his choice.
Fine is the secret, delicate the art,
To wind the passions and command the heart!
For fancy'd ills to force our tears to flow, 35
And make the gen'rous soul in love with wo,
To raise the shades of heroes to our view,
Rebuild fall'n empires and old time renew,
How hard the task! how rare the godlike rage!
None should presume to dictate for the stage 40
But such as boast a great extensive mind,
Enrich'd by Nature and by Art refin'd,
Who from the ancient stores their knowledge bring,
And tasted early of the Muse's spring.
May none pretend upon her throne to sit 45
But such as sprung from you are born to wit:
Chosen by the mob their lawless claim we slight;
Your's is the old hereditary right. 48