  SPOKEN BY MR. MARTIN. A native Bard, a native scene displays, And claims your candour for his daring lays: Daring, so soon, in mimic scenes to shew, What each remembers as a real woe. Who has forgot when gallant AndrÉ died? A name by Fate to Sorrow's self allied. Who has forgot, when o'er the untimely bier, Contending armies paus'd, to drop a tear. Our Poet builds upon a fact tonight; Yet claims, in building, every Poet's right; To choose, embellish, lop, or add, or blend, Fiction with truth, as best may suit his end; Which, he avows, is pleasure to impart, And move the passions but to mend the heart. Oh, may no party-spirit blast his views, Or turn to ill the meanings of the Muse: She sings of wrongs long past, Men as they were, To instruct, without reproach, the Men that are; Then judge the Story by the genius shewn, And praise, or damn, it, for its worth alone. |
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