Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, by ROYALL TYLER



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The comic, tragic muses, in western climes
Last Line: North end forever!
Alternate Author Name(s): Old Simon; S.
Subject(s): Belknap, Jeremy (1744-1798); Boston; Montgomery, Richard (1738-1775); Ramsay, David (1749-1815); Trumbull, John (1750-1831); Trumbull, John (1756-1843); Warren, Joseph (1741-1775)


Intended to have been spoken by Colonel J. S. Tyler, at
the opening of The Boston Theater, this season
By a Gentleman of Vermont

THE comic, tragic Muse[s], in Western climes
Long laugh'd at follies, or have wept at crimes;
Till Europe's frantic sons, with deadlier rage
Than e'er had crimson'd the theatre page,
The tragic dagger seized, and madly hurl'd
Its real terrors, o'er the astonish'd world --
The affrighted muses fly, and seek our shore,
Where Liberty and Commerce fled before:
Where exil'd faith our pious fathers led,
When from oppression's priestly scourge they fled.
Long had the muses heard of our blest land,
That last retreat of freedom's sacred band!
That land, where genius soars sublimest heights;
Where Trumbull painted, and where Trumbull writes --
Where Ramsay, Belknap, trac'd the historic line,
And Sullivan defeats the force of time.
Where nature's strains from rapt Philenia flow,
Make anguish pleasing, and enchant with woe.
-- Where hoary Franklin, midst the tempest lower,
Disarm'd the forked lightning of its power:
Where Warren and Montgomery -- mighty dead!
Immortaliz'd those heights, on which they bled:
And to the tragic muse those scenes renew'd
Which erst with joy in Greece and Rome she view'd:
Where Washington, immortal in fame's story!
On the proud apex of our country's glory
Stands like our Eagle, covering afar;
Blessing those realms in peace, he sav'd in war.
Raptur'd the muses heard -- then sped their flight,
O'er the broad main, and landed here this night:
Some transient visits these fair dames have paid
But took a British gallant to their aid:
But now they've come to live, like Boston ladies,
To settle down for life, and -- bring up babies.
They've chose to make this favor'd town their home,
And me -- a town-born child -- their bone of bone.
This house we've hired -- this our drawing-room --
You'll always find new-married folks at home.
Through me this eve -- the Muses each presents,
But chief to you, ye fair, their compliments.

To the BOXES

Ye, who control those hearts whom George in vain
Has fought to humble to a foreign chain:
Who, crown'd with beauty, scepter'd by wit's wand,
Rule, the sole despots, known in our free land:
To your resistless power the muses sue; --
Who shall condemn, if once approv'd by you?
What, tho' in Europe's epicurian climes,
They caught the tainted manners of the times,
The entendre, doubly nauseous to the ear,
The jest obscene, the meretricious leer;
Cheer'd by your smiles, and chasten'd by your frown,
Sweet decency henceforth shall be their crown;
And manners catching from the climes they view,
Coquettes in England, matrons be with you.
No more shall bashfull beauty, aw'd by man,
To the sly covert of the lattic'd fan
Be forc'd, by the coarse joke, or coxcomb rude,
To blush -- at what, you never understood!
Mirth's goblet modestly shall boldly quaff,
And innocence enjoy the hearty laugh.
The muses character will copy you,
Be witty, cheerful, and be modest too;
And this their glory, when they would excell,
To mimic virtues, which you act so well.

To the PIT

With trembling awe, ye arbiters of wit,
Ye mightly spirits of this vasty pit;
Whether collected here, our ill ye bode,
Or dip in printer's ink the critic probe,
With trembling awe the muses wait your doom,
No merit plead but that they're now your own.
Tis your support alone success ensures;
Yours all the merit, all the glory yours.
Oh! then if politics inflame your blood,
All nobly zealous for your country's good,
For us -- reflect how keenly e'er you feel,
WIT, like true worship, knows no party zeal.
Let mirth within these walls your souls employ,
Like brothers worship at this shrine of joy.
Let Feds and Antis to our temple come,
And all unite firm Federalists in Fun;
Let austere politics one hour flee,
And join in free Democracy of glee!
For me, sustained by you -- the task be mine,
Where native genius droops in shades to find,
The tender buds from wintery vales to bring,
To where your bounty sheds perpetual spring.
Warm'd by its rays, and nourish'd by its dew,
The vigorous shall open to your view.
Tir'd by the thought, I view those glorious days,
When native Powells act our native lays.
When bards shall carol on our river's side,
And Charles shall rival British Avon's pride.
Columbian Shakespeares, paint the poet's dreams,
And yankee Garricks act the glowing scenes,
Till vanquish'd Britain, aw'd by our success,
In arts as arms our triumph shall confess.

To the UPPER GALLERY

Tho' last, ye harties, yet not least in love.
The muses bid me greet their friends above,
The author, actor, live in your applause,
Tis nature's voice, tho' fashion style its noise.
Unlac'd by fashion, unrestrain'd by art,
Your's the warm impulse of the glowing heart.
When roguish wit dismays the bashful miss,
Who fears to titter -- lest she laugh amiss.
Tis yours -- ye sons of glee -- 'tis yours to roll
The laughing plaudit from the loosen'd soul.
Nor less when pity strikes the chords of woe,
Yours the warm thrill, which bids the tear to flow.
Luff up my harties! cheer each drooping box;
The good ship -- Theatre -- is on the stocks.
Her ways are greas'd -- her after blocks away,
Then jump her, jump her -- if you'd give her way.
In me, her captain -- know me for your friend,
Your townsman -- town-born -- town-bred, at north end!
Let British lords their haughty birth declare,
I boast of being born in -- Old North Square.
Then heave a head -- doff hats -- and now or never,
Come give us three huzzas --
NORTH END FOREVER!





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