ESCENT INTO ELYSIUM, FOR A STAGE POET.

_Suggested by a scene in Aristophanes._

It is necessary to mention that this was written when Mr. Sheridan was
in office, and before Mr. Colman had written his best piece, the
Africans. Nothing however has occurred to alter the author's opinions.

The idea was suggested by a scene in the frogs of Aristophanes. It is a
dialogue between Hercules and Bacchus. Bacchus asking Hercules the way
to the infernal regions, is naturally interrogated as to his reasons for
going. He answers he is going for a poet. On this a short dialogue
ensues concerning the living poets of Athens, in which Aristophanes
takes occasion to satirize some of his brother dramatists.

_Comic Muse, and Porter of Elysium._

_Porter._ Who knocks so loud and frequent at this gate?

_Comic Muse._ 'Tis I--the laughing muse of comedy.

_P._ What? with that mournful melancholy face?
Why sure--thou'st wandered through Trophonius' cave.

_C. M._ I've cause for grief: I'm scorn'd despis'd, neglected,
A vulgar muse, got by some Grub-street bard,
On obscure Ignorance, in gaol or stews,
Usurps my place, and arrogates my honours.

_P._ 'Tis sad:--but wherefore bend this way thy steps?

_C. M._ I come to seek some high and gifted bard,
Whose fiery genius with just judgment temper'd,
May vindicate my rights; and with strong satire
Whip the vile ignorant triflers from the stage.

_P._ What! is there none alive of power sufficient?
Lives not the attic wit of Sheridan?

_C. M._ He lives: but, oh, disgrace to letters! long
Has left me for the sweets of dissipation,
Left me whose hand had crowned his head with honours,
And still would crown,--to join the noisy band
Of brawling, jangling, patriot politicians.
At length his wonderful deserts have raised him[7]
To the top of office; and the quondam play-wright.
Ungrateful scorning fair Thalia's favours,
Courts the green Naiades of Somerset.

_P._ But have you not the classic Cumberland?[8]

_C. M._ He still exists: but ah! how chang'd from him
Whose gen'rous Belcour touch'd all hearts with rapture,
Whose honest Major charm'd with native humour,
Whose Charlotte, pleasant, frank and open hearted,
Call'd forth our tears of pleasure--April showers!
His pages now, stuff'd with false maudlin sentiment,
Scarce please our whimpering-girls and driveling ensigns:

_P._ But laughing Colman[9] lives, a son of