r- r\ 
 
 3337
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SOCRATES, 
 
 DRAMATIC POEM. 
 
 By A M Y A S B U S H E, Efq; A. M. 
 
 And Fellow of the ROYAL SOCIETY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for tht AUTHOR: 
 And Sold by R. and J. D o d s l e y in Pa l l - m a l t. 
 
 M DCC LVIII.
 
 To the Right Honourable 
 
 GEORGE Lord LYTTELTON, 
 BARON of FRANKLY. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 SOCRATES through many ages has been kindly re- 
 ceived by all peribns of virtue, learning, and tafte ; your 
 LordiKip has already paid him particular marks of your re- 
 gard in his prefent charadler and drefs ; your approbation of 
 this dramatic poem, is my ftrongeft encouragement to offer it 
 to the public ; mere amufement, and to fill up an interval of 
 leifure and fblitude, were, I confels, my firft inducements to 
 attempt this performance j I could not then think of making 
 it public, tho' iome few friends of learning and judgment 
 gave me their favourable opinion of it; but altho' this fbme- 
 what gratified my vanity, yet it was not a fufficient motive 
 to induce me to a publication, without applying to, and fbl- 
 liciting your Lordfhip to perufe it, being well affured, that 
 if you thought it tolerable, I had not much to dread from' 
 any reader of candour and ingenuity : I was ambitious of (o 
 high a fanftion, and I am happy in the enjoyment of it— But 
 your Lordlliip's further indulgence to Socrates, in pointing at, 
 and proicribing leveral inaccuracies, redundancies, and other 
 infirmities of the work, and above all, in takino; him under 
 your protection, at a time when learning and virtue meet 
 
 A 2 with
 
 IV 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 with fuch cold hofpitallty from the world, has in a great de- 
 gree grafted this poem on the rich ftock of your own high 
 reputation; as a fcyon that may draw from the foftering in- 
 fluence of your fame, no fmall nourifhment and fupport ; your 
 laurels will, (contrary to the qualities of moft others) not only 
 infure immortality and vigour to themfclves, but prelerve life 
 and verdure to any tender iprigs which they vouchfafe to 
 fhelter. Give me leave, my Lord, to return you my llncere 
 thanks for the favour you do me, in permitting this dedica- 
 tion of Socrates to you ; it will be the greateft literary ho- 
 nour to my name, to be feen in company with your's by la- 
 teft pofterity : your's, my Lord, can die but with the Englifh 
 language, and iome of it's trueft honours and ornaments ex- 
 emplified in all your poetic works, and with the Chriftian re- 
 ligion, io nobly fupported by you in your argument on the 
 converfion of St. Paul : as to my own, I have as yet no in- 
 iurancc againft it's mortality, except your kind opinion and 
 prote61ion of this little work, calculated you know for the 
 cloiet, and not for the ftage. Whatever it's merit or demerit 
 may be, it will have a fairer and more difpaflionate trial, than 
 moft pieces exhibited can expe£l to meet with. I Ihall tref- 
 pais upon your patience, by once more recommending this 
 tender, and firft-publilhed offspring of my fancy, to your 
 friendly adoption and patronage, and to affure you, that I am, 
 my Lord, \\ ith the greateft efteem and reipe6l, 
 
 Your Lordfiiip's moft obliged 
 
 and moft obedient humble Servant, 
 
 Amyas Bufhe.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 TH E fyftem and fentlments employed in the following 
 poem, whether moral or metaphyfical, are no farther 
 embraced by the author, nor recommended to the reader, than 
 as they agree with {bund morality and chriftian principles : 
 they are confidered as the neareft approaches made by unin- 
 fpired realbn, to that perfe£l: difpenfation, which the gofpel 
 affords to mankind. The name of Socrates will in fbme mea - 
 (ure fandify the doflrine he delivers ; his cataftrophe will be 
 a fignal and illuflrious inftance, both of the depravity and ex- 
 cellence of human nature. It is with the view to introduce 
 the knowledge of this wonderful man, and his fyftem, to 
 thole, whole want of leiiure, and different purluits, have pre- 
 vented them from ftudying the dead languages, that he comes 
 abroad in this drels, to entertain (we hope) and inftru£l the 
 reader, to whole candour and favour we venture to fubmit 
 him. 
 
 To
 
 [vl] 
 
 To AMYAS BUSHE, Efq; on his Dramatic Poem on 
 
 the death of Socrates. 
 
 By an unknown hand. 
 
 TH E half-evangcliz'd, Infpircd ftore 
 Of facred Socrates — his heaven-taught lore 
 Informs with dignity divine your lays ; 
 There pagan truths with chriftian fervor blaze. 
 The gofpel's harbinger, who fhone fb bright, 
 With more than ethic rays, than nature's light 
 His lamp was rais'd— with more than mortal flame 
 His {bul was fir'd, from heaven it's luftre came; 
 From thence his meeknefs iprung, his ftedfaft mind, 
 Which throws all vain philolbphy behind ; 
 All technic arrogance, all ftoic pride. 
 And falfe prefumption, ever wand'ring wide 
 From virtue's genuine path, whofe wifdom trod 
 The path of purity, the way to God. 
 There Socrates a human faviour went, 
 And taught mankind to tremble and repent ; 
 There Ihone the hallow'd fage — in your ftrong lines 
 Intrlnfic energy, and greatnels fhines : 
 
 Here ftrcngth of foul, the man divine appears. 
 
 By rigid power opprefs'd, oppreis'd by years. 
 
 By deadly rancour fmotc, by fraud purfu'd, 
 
 See rancour, fraud, by Socrates fubdu'd ; 
 
 His virtue conquers all, all rage defies. 
 
 His virtue triumphs, triumphs as he dies ; 
 
 o
 
 [ vii ] 
 
 O glorious tafk ! mere mortal man to try, 
 Could unafTifted nature climb fo high ! 
 Your hand each (entiment fublime could trace 
 With native ftrength, fimplicity and grace; 
 Your well-direded thought the pile could plan, 
 And raife once more to view the godlike man, 
 EreiH:, admir'd, as when all Athens wept, 
 And widow'd Virtue mournful vigils kept; 
 Your hand can fill, and ftrike the foul with awe, 
 And Socrates with equal virtue draw. 
 
 Dramaas.
 
 Dramatis Perfonae, 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 
 Cho r us. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 
 Chorus of etherial Spirits, 
 
 President. 
 
 Judges. 
 
 Melitu s. 
 
 Officer of Court. 
 
 Cr ITO. 
 Ph ^ DO. 
 
 Ce B E S. 
 Go AL E R. 
 
 SCENE, Athens. 
 
 SOCRATES.
 
 SOCRATES, 
 
 DRAMATIC P O E M- 
 
 ACT I. SCENE L 
 
 S C E N E, S o c R A T E s^s houfe. 
 
 Socrates folus. 
 
 MY fhield, my breaft-plate, virtue has put on,. 
 Let envy's hoftile darts aflault in vain 
 This firm-colle6led foul, I feel that ftrength. 
 That fortitude ferene, which honefty 
 Alone can give the mind, that never lodg'd 
 Prefiimption vain, hypocrify, nor pride 
 Within it's fecret cells ; nor public fraud, , 
 Nor oftentation vile, nor lenfual views 
 Abhorr'd, nor impious thoughts againft the gods— - 
 Integrity ! thou citadel fecure, 
 Thou bulwark of the foul— invincible I 
 Intrench my heart around with conicious ftrength, 
 Becommg dignity, and jufl difdain 
 Of imputations foul, and horrid crin;^es : 
 I feel an infpiration from above 
 Invig'rate, and fublime my inward frame, 
 
 B And
 
 3 SOCRATES, 
 
 And raife my fpirlts up— there is — there is — 
 
 Socrates fhall live for ever — I feel 
 
 An a6live and immortal principle; 
 
 I fhall be juftified above the ftars 
 
 Among the blefs'd, at heaven's great tribunal, 
 
 O energy divine ! I feel the God 
 
 Lifpiring comfort. 
 
 Enter Hermogenes, 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 Hail ! great holy fage 
 Of aipe£t venerable, tho' the trace 
 Of wafteful years and foul-employing thought 
 Sit furrow'd on thy brow ! if difengag'd 
 From private cares, let now the rofy morn 
 Invite thy fteps abroad to yonder iliades. 
 Where oft thy moral do£lrines clear'd fome truth. 
 Some heavenly truth, and check'd the ftream 
 Of a licentious age ; go forth once more 
 In thy integrity, let wifdora's force 
 X)ire£l and blefs mankind. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Hail, worthy friend ! 
 For ever prefent to rny Inmoft thoughts 
 When beft employ'd, come, fit thee down a while ; 
 Thy vifit is well tlm'd— Juft as thou cnter'd. 
 My foul w^as full intent on virtue's charms 
 Jn beauty's form array'd ; for, fhe ihines 
 A:S do aerial Ihapcs that bring to men 
 
 Some
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 
 
 Some high behefts from heav'n, and on my mind 
 Beams radiant light, (uch as pure fplrits feel 
 When diiengag'd from earth they wing their way 
 To happy manfions. 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 Noble are the thoughts 
 Which thus employ thy mind, opprefs'd by ills 
 And injur'd by thy thanklefs countrymen ; 
 Ungrateful Athens — ages yet to come — 
 But thy exalted mind with pity looks 
 On thole confederates ; you feel for them 
 A father's anger when they moft offend. 
 Fain would I view thole truths by thee difplay'd. 
 In all their native charms, from thy clear mind 
 Truths flow like oracles. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 'Tis wifciom's talk 
 To rife againfl: mifrule's opprefllve power, 
 And conquer calumny with virtue's force ; 
 Th' Athenians yet may feel, perhaps confefs 
 That Socrates deferv'd a better fate ; 
 But heaven's decrees mufl over all prevail. 
 And innocence muft learn to fiaffer wrong-s--^ 
 Know, beauty is a pure etherial ray 
 Of fair celefiial make, that iflues forth 
 From the fble fount of lig-ht, and lufire fpreads 
 Thro' air and earth and heaven : old ocean feels 
 The influence of it's beam : when tempefts fly 
 They bear it on their wings : the firmament 
 Radiant v/ith fcarry orbs, light above light 
 
 B 2. Li
 
 4 SOCRATES, 
 
 In lucid order rais'd, aloud proclaims 
 The fair original — 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 The works of God 
 Indeed arc great, and fhew a wond'rous hand 
 Which gave them thus to Ihine ; but ftill remains 
 What I moft long te know, how virtue wears 
 Fair beauty's form, and as you feem'd to hint 
 Differs but in the name. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Beauties that flilne 
 In tlie material world, are certain laws 
 Imprcis'd on natural things, by the great God 
 Of nature, furnilli'd with peculiar powers 
 To aftuate their being, by which they move 
 To their rei|3e(ftive ends ; nor do they want 
 A higher rule, as they can never fvverve 
 From what is beautiful : but man is rais'd 
 High in the Icale of beings, and inform'd 
 With intelle<Slual faculties that ilicw 
 The beauty of the mind, by which he claims 
 Relation to liis Maker, and partakes 
 Of reftitude divine : hence, moral atis 
 Which flow from reafbn, and oblequious will. 
 Are beautiful and good, becaufe with God 
 Similitude they hold, whofe iacrcd will, 
 Pure as his efE^ncc, never can divert 
 From what is right, and is itfelf the law 
 Which we call nat'ral, as He, only, rules 
 As well the moral as material world, 
 
 H E R M O G E N
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 5 
 
 He rmogenes. 
 Creat are thy fentlments, thou fage divine. 
 And reft on principles that bear the teft 
 And fcrutiny of reafbn. He who form'd 
 The iiim of things, to every part aflign'd 
 Beauty and order, fuited to the kinds 
 Of their refpeftive natures, as a law 
 To rule their a£lions ; but on man he ftamp'd 
 An image of himlelf, by which he moves 
 To moral ends by intelle£lual means. [Ex. Her, 
 
 HYMN to Beauty and Virtue. 
 
 Semichorus i . 
 Hall (acred (burce of heav'n and earth ! 
 From thee fair beauty takes her birth : 
 Whatc'er in profpe£l charms the eye, 
 From thee receives its pleafing dye: 
 From thee, Apollo gilds the ray 
 That uihers in the new-born day : 
 From thee, the moon with borrow'd lighi 
 Supplies the filver lamp of night : 
 From thee, fair Iris paints her bow 
 Where all thy varied colours glow : 
 Form'd by thy hand, does nature ij^read 
 A flow'ry carpet o'er the mead : 
 From thee the face of earth is (een 
 Array'd in chcarful robes of green : 
 What bloubms on the frao-rant tree 
 Derives th' impatient buds from thee : 
 
 What
 
 SOCRATES, 
 
 What rparkles in the diamond Ihows 
 
 The brighter fount from which it flows:. 
 
 All that can pleafe in earth or air 
 
 Is but of thee a copy fair : 
 
 Thy beauty fills the world with light, 
 
 Which without thee, would fink in night. 
 
 Semichorus 2. 
 But beauty, in the moral way. 
 Shines with a brighter purer ray ! 
 Diftin^l the living lines appear ; 
 The colours ftrong, the image clear. 
 Not fairer feen, nor yet more like 
 The objcds from the mirrour ftrike : 
 There, fortitude and prudence fhine, 
 Beaming with radiance divine : 
 Here awful juftice holds her fcales, 
 Her pure decrees impartial deals : 
 There the firm patriot pleads the caufe 
 Of merit, rais'd on virtue's laws ; 
 And here, th' immoral villain bleeds, 
 Unoiticd, for nefarious deeds. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Beauty and virtue are the fame ; 
 They differ, only in the name. 
 What to the foul is pure and bright 
 Is beauty in a moral light ; 
 And what to fenic does charms convey 
 Is beauty in the nat'ral way : 
 
 Each
 
 A Dramatic POEM. y 
 
 Each from one (burce it's cfTence draws, 
 And both conform to nature's laws. 
 
 SCENE IL 
 
 Socrates fblus. 
 It cannot be— for fince this beauteous world 
 Was rais'd by God, his Providence muft rule 
 The vaft machine—Chance is an idle toy 
 For fools to play with— Should fixt nature change 
 Her well-known courfe, and vary from the laws 
 That guide the fyftem : fhould the elements. 
 Whereof all things in this our low^er world 
 Are form'd, delert the ftation which they hold, 
 In concert with the whole : fhould the great frame 
 Of that bright heavenly arch, which o'er our heads 
 Shines with refulgent light, give way, and feel 
 A dilTolution : fhould celeftial fpheres 
 Forget their wonted courfe, and devious turn 
 As chance miiguides : fhould the bright lamp of heaven 
 Withdraw his light, and the pale wand 'ring moon 
 Miftake her well-known path : fhould ieaions mix 
 In wild confufion, or expiring winds 
 Breathe their laft gafp : lliould earth's fiir fruitage droop 
 Like children on the wither'd breafis that fail 
 Of proper food : Ihould chance or fortune reign 
 With arbitrary fway: w^hat would become 
 Of man himielf, for whom theie things are made ? 
 Idle liirmiie ! There is a living God 
 Who rules fiipreme, under whole brooding wing 
 All nature refts lecure. Enter
 
 8 SOCRATES, 
 
 Enter A r i s t o d e m u s . 
 
 Socrates, 
 Welcome my friend ! 
 1 hope, Ariftodemus, no new doubts ;' 
 
 Concerning God and Providence, dlfturb- 
 Thc quiet of thy mind. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 
 Till clearer thoughts 
 Have calm'd the tumult of a working foul, . 
 It cannot reft, but like a rolling fhip 
 Toft on tempeftuous waves, refigns the helm 
 That ftiould dire£l it's courfe, and feels the force 
 Of rifing doubts, which like fierce- warring winds 
 From divers quarters, agitate the foul 
 With anxious thoughts that violate the peace 
 And quiet of the mind— O Socrates I 
 That thinking principle I feel within me. 
 Is ever on the rack. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Come, let us view 
 Once more the matter in fair points of light, 
 And then let realon judge. Can'ft thou perceive. 
 How caufes operate ? what latent fprings 
 Move nature's works ? know'ft thou, what rounds the hail. 
 Or points the flaming dart ? how the hoar froft 
 Is form'd oi pearly dew ? how icy chains 
 Rcftraln the fluid mafs, and ftay the courfe 
 Of limpid ftreams, that wont to glide along 
 
 In
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 9 
 
 In liquid lapfe ? or, grant that you could view 
 Nature's recefs, and lee the hidden wheels 
 By which things move, and operate w ith eaie i 
 Are they at thy difpofal ? canft thou wing 
 The feather'd fiiow ? or bid the brufhing winds 
 Sweep the aerial way ? canft thou diipoie 
 Of feafbns and their change ? do elements 
 Of jarring atoms form'd, at thy command 
 In friendly league combine ? or day and night 
 Alternate reign ? And yet all nature moves 
 By certain laws that rule the vaft machine 
 In each degree of change, and {peak a powder 
 That gives it motion, and dire£ls the parts 
 To their re{pe6live ends; for things inert 
 Could never aft, without a living (bul 
 To give them energy : were it no fb. 
 The orbs of heav'n would ceafe to roll, the air 
 Forget to breathe, and earth refule to yield 
 Her various fruits. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 Amazing are the laws 
 That rule the univerle, and keep the world 
 In order juft !— my thoughts have been employ'd 
 On other things. 
 
 So CRATES. 
 
 What can employ your thoughts 
 With fo much pleafmg joy, as thus to view 
 The works of God ? does not the genial iun 
 Warm and invigorate all things on earth 
 Fervent with liii of every goodly kind, 
 
 C And
 
 10 SOCRATES, 
 
 And fhew them too ? but as the human frame 
 Is form'd of mould terreftrial which perfpircs 
 Much of its vital heat, have not the gods 
 Ordaln'd the night for reft, to give frelh fprings 
 To life and labour ? and when evening ray 
 Dips in the Ihade, is not the firmament 
 Bedeck'd with lights, that run their wonted round 
 In circles multiform ? anon ftiines forth 
 The fplendid regent of the night, array'd 
 In filver robes, and paints in (bften'd ihades 
 All nature's charms ; till the bright orient fun 
 Slow-gleaming thro' the dark and cloudy duik 
 By fair Aurora led — again revives 
 The face of things, and bids the lamps of night 
 Withdraw their ray : is this oeconomy 
 A proof of Providence ? or does it iJ3eak 
 The laws of chance ? 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 O Socrates, you fpeak 
 Of things manimate v/hich muft be mov'd 
 By fbme external force ; but I would chufe 
 To hear yonr thoughts of eflences, that a£l 
 And move at will. 
 
 So CRATES. 
 
 Thither I did intend 
 To bend my way, had not your hafty mind 
 Check'd my difcourle, and broke the chain of thought 
 I meant to hold — Say then, arc not lome men 
 For wifdom deem'd fuperior to the reft 
 Of human kind ? 
 
 I Ar I S T O-
 
 A Dramatic POEM. n 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 Yes doubtlefs ; Homer ftands 
 For ever foremoft in. the roll of fame 
 For epic ftrains ; and Sophocles high rais'd 
 In bulkins trod ; the forming chizzel grac'd 
 The hand of Polyclete ; and living lines 
 From Zeuxis' pencil flow'd. 
 
 SoC RATES. 
 
 Say then, my friend, 
 Are they, v^ho images of things exprefs, 
 Of mind and motion void ; or they who gave 
 Spirit and energy to what they raife 
 In living form, moft worthy to be held 
 In admiration ? 
 
 Aristodemus, 
 Doubtlefs, living forms 
 By far excell ; for living forms arile 
 Not from blind chance, but wife and deep defign 
 Which fpring from reafbn ; and the works cxprefs 
 The final caufe to which they owe their frame. 
 
 SoC RATES. 
 
 Does not the being then, whofe boundleis thought 
 Firft plann'd man's frame, fb wonderfully made, 
 So curious and fo fearful ; and difpens'd 
 The aftive powers of thought and motion, feem 
 To have directed all it's various parts 
 To ufeful ends ? was not th' infatiate eye 
 With all its coats, made porous to receive 
 And drink the limpid light ? does not the ear 
 Admit the floating found ? is it not ftor'd 
 
 C 2 With
 
 12 SOCRATES, 
 
 With organs fit to move the hearing lenie, 
 Which by the fibres of the brain conveys 
 Sounds to the foul ? or why fhould nature breathe 
 This gay profiifion of luxurious fweets 
 This odorific bHfs, had not the wife, 
 1 h' unerring power of the creative hand 
 Prepar'd the organs to imbibe the ftream 
 That fragrant Hoats in fields of liquid air ? 
 Or how from viands could fiich taftes arife 
 Acid or fweet, did not the tongue explore 
 Their various juices, and the palate chufe 
 What is moft grateful ? 
 
 Aristodemus. ^ 
 
 Wond'rous is the frame 
 Of man, and feems to fpeak the hand divine 
 Which rais'd the fyftem. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Let us farther view 
 The human frame, and we lliall clearly trace 
 Strong lines of Providence — Has it not ikreen'd 
 The tender ball of fight with moving lids 
 That open to the light ? and when the dew 
 Of fleep fleals on the eyes, do they not fail 
 Like a foft veil ? are not their pliant valves 
 Which fnut and open, edg'd with fringe of hair 
 To guard againft the wind that with rude blaft 
 Might fret the ball ? are not the eye-brows form'd 
 Like a fair penthouie, to caft ofif the drops 
 That trickle down the front, and would annoy 
 The feat of fight ? does not the hearing fenle 
 
 Receive
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 13 
 
 Receive all kind of {bund, and yet the ear 
 Is never full ? Is not thy living frame 
 A portion finall of the great mafs, which forms 
 Th' amazing (urn ? is not that frame fuftain'd 
 By intelle£lual powers, which cannot rile 
 From matter void of fenfe ? By lequel fair 
 Should you not thence infer, that intellect, 
 Forecaft, and wiidom, from fbme power flow, 
 As from a (burce of pure celeftial light, 
 Which fhews the moral world to reafon's eye, 
 And gives it luftre. 
 
 Ar 1ST O DE M U S. 
 
 Yes ; thefe leem the works 
 Of art and counfel ; but, what human eye 
 The artifts ever iaw ? who knows the tools 
 With which they work ? or what relation bear 
 Things incorporeal to material forms ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 Can you, Ariftodemus, lee the Ibul 
 Which animates the man ? Is not the Ipring 
 That moves and actuates the whole machine, 
 Conceal'd from view ? and yet, you feem to a£i: 
 With counfel and defign. Thus, He, who fchem'd 
 This world immenfe, prefides and rules 
 By fecret laws j Himfelf invifible 
 To mortal ken, whom yet we fairly trace 
 In his material works, which all declare 
 A power di\inc. Say, when you gaze dire£l,,. 
 Full on the fim, is not the radiant orb 
 Loft in the blaze of light ? and yet the fun. 
 
 Faint3
 
 14 SOCRATES, 
 
 Paiats licav'n and earth to view. When thunder peals 
 
 Thro' the aerial vault, is not the bolt 
 
 Hurl'd on unlcen, tho' viiible the figns 
 
 It leaves behind ? or, when fierce warring winds 
 
 Spread delolation round, can you difcern 
 
 The wings with which they fly, tho' nature Ipeak 
 
 Their rapid force ? And if there's aught in man 
 
 That docs refemble God ; it is the foul 
 
 Which guides all parts, yet cannot be difcern'd 
 
 By lliarpeft eye. Ceafe tlien to doubt of things 
 
 Latent from fight, and to deny a God 
 
 Becaufe you cannot lee him with an eye 
 
 To mortals given. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 You feem, fige Socrates, 
 To reafon right ; and I would gladly pay 
 Devotion to the gods, were their chief care 
 Employ'd on men : but do not men live here 
 In common with the brutes, who all enjoy 
 The po\\'ers you ipeak of, in a high degree, 
 Higher perhaps than we ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 Can you conceive 
 That gods are carelefs of the general good 
 Of human kind, when you muft own that man 
 Is of all creatures that relj^ire in air, 
 Alone of frame erc£l, ordain'd to view 
 The azure round, whether the dm by day 
 Heaven's vault illumine, or the fpangling liars 
 Glitter by night ? are not the optic lights, 
 
 Which
 
 A Dramatic POEM, 15 
 
 Which view all nature in her fineft: drcfs, 
 Plac'd in the hip-heft redon of the frame 
 Obje£ls remote to fee, Uke centinels 
 In a watch-tow'r, to guard againft approach 
 Of dangers from abroad ? while reptiles creep 
 Along the ground, or draw a fmuous train 
 Of many a fold \ and others, range the wilds, 
 Or browze the flow'ry mead, on feet that lerve 
 No other end than to conduct their frame 
 Of afpe<ft prone : have not the gods benign 
 Furnilh'd the human race with hands and arms 
 Plac'd near the ieat of fight, by fauldels fkill 
 Fitted for uleful ends ? 
 
 ArISTODEMUSo 
 
 I know no ends 
 They mean to lerve, than what the brutes purfue 
 Without their aid : do they not live at will. 
 And propagate their kinds ? what more could men 
 With boafted hands ? 
 
 SOCR ATES. 
 
 Ariftodemus, judge, 
 How without hands, could fruits be rais'd to feed 
 Thefe weakly frames, and keep the mould'ring clay 
 From falling into duft ? or how could cloaths 
 Be made to guard againft the bitter blaft 
 Of rigid cold, or the fierce flaming fires 
 Of folar ray ? could houfes, made for ends 
 Of neceftary ufe, fpontaneous rife 
 And fettle into order ? could the ox 
 Bleed at the altar, to appeale the gods- 
 
 And
 
 j6 SOCRATES. 
 
 And make atonement, without hands to fell 
 And dreis the facrifice ? do not the hands 
 Make marble breathe, and can\'ais fpeak the deeds 
 Of deathlejs heroes, and tranfmlt their fame 
 To future ages ? are not theie llrong prooi's 
 Of God's pecuHar care of human kind ? 
 
 ARIS'rODEMUS. 
 
 You reaion hke a tlieift — I can hear 
 
 Your arguments with pleafure ; but perhaps 
 
 They may not prove conclufive in the end. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Are not all other animals deprived 
 Of Ipeech and elocution ? but in man 
 The tongue is form'd to vocal found, and fpeaks 
 Jc The language of the mind, whence all the fweets 
 Of converle flov/, for words exprefs to fenfe 
 All fuch ideas as the foul receives 
 From outward objefts, latent elie to ken 
 Of reafon's eye 3 for the foul cannot think 
 Without materials fit, wiiereon to raifo 
 It's fJ3eculations. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 What ? do not all brutes 
 In founds diffimilar their fonfo convey 
 When fear, or pain, the beating heart aflails, 
 Or when their bofoms with warm pleafiire glow ? 
 Is not the neighing of a horfo exprefs'd 
 In varied found, when in the bloom of life 
 Florid and frefh, he wantons o'er the plains, 
 .Stung with the fervour of a youthful love ?
 
 A Dramatic POEM. - 17 
 
 Or when from noftrils wide he darts the flame 
 
 Of kindling war, and fnuffs the blaze of arms ? 
 
 Do not the feather'd kind, of varied plume. 
 
 Vary their ftrain, as riling paflions {\vell 
 
 The heaving breaft ? other the notes, which hawks 
 
 Or eagles ule ; as queft of food, or fight, 
 
 Dire6i:s the found : when flying near to land 
 
 The full-gorg'd cormorant forfakes the deep, 
 
 And fends his fcreams before him to the beach ; 
 
 Other his tone, than when with level wing 
 
 He fkims the furface of the briny wave. 
 
 Many of plumy race oft' change their notes, 
 
 As temoeratures of air or weather chano;e : 
 
 The tempcft-Ioving raven, and the crow 
 
 Intelligent of leafons, brooding clouds 
 
 With hoarfer throat demand, and with fell croak 
 
 The gathering ftorms, and rifing winds foretell. 
 
 Socrates. 
 'Tis true, Ariil:odemus, that as brutes 
 Of reafbn void, are influenc'd by fenfe ; 
 They oft' their fears, or fond defires exprefs 
 By inarticulate founds, as appetite 
 Or fenfe direfts, when ftrong inftin£live powers 
 Of nature animal, exert their force 
 And agitate the frame : fo, nature fpeaks. 
 And nature is their law, who never fwerves 
 From the firft rules her Maker firft imprefs'd 
 On creatures mov'd by fenfe. But man is form'd 
 Of a fuperior nature made to fuit 
 His intelleftual faculties, that fbar 
 
 D Beyond
 
 i8 SOCRATES, 
 
 Beyond the verge of fenfe, and ralfe the foul 
 To lofty thoughts, which when reduc'd 
 Into true order by the fettling mind, 
 He can exprcfs in words that are the types 
 Which give fubfiftence fure to his ideas 
 Regularly laid. Hence, man with man 
 Can convcrfation hold, or joyous hymn 
 With vocal fymphony their Maker's praiie, 
 Like fpirits glorified who fuxetly tune 
 The fphercs to harmony ; or mutual lend 
 And borrow rcafbn, as the flftcr moon 
 From Phoebus draws her rays, \\hich flie again. 
 Diffuies thro' the vault of heaven, to gild 
 The dreary face of night— -This is the ftatc 
 Of man ordain'd for high and noble ends. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 O Socrates ! my foul begins to feel 
 The force of heavenly truth — go on, great fage. 
 To clear the argument with flrongcr proof,, 
 ^ And let conviction flill reform my mind. 
 By thee imprcfs'd with dignity of thought,- 
 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 ' Let us inveftigate with farther fearch 
 The human nature in a higher light, 
 That point of view, wherein man joyous claims 
 Relation to his Maker : for is not man 
 Alone of living things on earth, endued 
 With mind and foul, by which he clearly knows 
 That God exifts, and that he rais'd a world 
 For this his favourite creature 3 yet requires g 
 
 No
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 19 
 
 No other tribute than a grateful mind 
 To holy adoration train'd, and pure 
 Conceptions of the Deity, fupreme 
 O'er gods and men, who with his efifence fills 
 Th' extended univerfe, thus wond'rous fair, 
 Himfelf how wond'rous then ! unfpeakable, 
 And veil'd amid the luftre which furrounds 
 His glorious throne, too dazzling to be ieen 
 By mortal eye : that pleaiure is referv'd 
 For righteous men ; for when this brittle frame 
 Of liner mould by which the foul performs 
 Her operations, iliali diffolve and mix 
 .With genial earth, the heav'n-born foul fprings forth 
 And freely mingles in the bleft abodes. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 My foul relents — From what you have advanc'd ; 
 Of coniequence I clearly can allow, 
 That men live here like demigods and reign 
 Over inferior beings ; and when death 
 Removes this cloud, the intelledlual part 
 Shall ftill fubfift. 
 
 SOC R ATE S. 
 
 Your inference is right : 
 This beauteous world, with all the breathing tribes 
 That move in air, or earth, or feas, was rais'd 
 To ferve the ufe of man, while here he lives 
 His deftin'd time : but when the cumbrous load 
 Which prcfTes down the foul, that particle 
 Of air divine which animates the fi'ame, 
 
 ^.^ And wings the mind to contemplations high, 
 
 "^ D 2 Shall
 
 20 SOCRATES, 
 
 Shall ceafc to aO:, and is by death reiolv'd 
 To It's firft principles ; then ihall the foul, 
 For ever icver'd from material mould, 
 Feel \ irtue's quick'ning power and heavenly light. 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 I Ice your reafons in united force ; 
 And find my ioul inclin'd to think, that gods 
 Take care of man : one doubt unfatisfy'd 
 Difturbs me ftill— -Is not man left to tread 
 A mazy round, where doubts to doubts fucceed 
 In wild confufion mixt, without a clue 
 To guide his fteps, and lead him to the bower 
 Where virtue, heav'nly goddefs rich array'd 
 In her celeftial robes, prefiding, rules 
 The moral world, by laws too darkly plan'd 
 To be diftin^lly leen ? Why do not gods 
 By minifterial agency convey 
 Their will to men, that they may clearly view 
 The lines of duty, and purfue the path 
 That leads where moral rectitude is found ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 Does not, Ariftodemus, the fair code 
 Of nature's laws, voluminous and vaft, 
 Lie open to your eye } May not you read 
 The marks of fhame and turpitude imprcls'd 
 On every vice, and trace the heav'nly charms 
 That fFiine on virtue's brow, pleafing as light 
 That iiTues from the lun } are you not mov'd 
 ■+ By nature's impulfe, to admire the garb 
 Which beauty wears, and to avert the eye 
 
 I Froni
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 2r 
 
 From foul deformities, whatever fhape 
 Or colour they affume ? 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 x\\\ this is true 
 Of beauteous nature, when (he means to pleaie 
 The curious eye, and to preient herielf 
 In beft attire; but what analogy 
 Do nature's beauties, which aftefh the feat 
 Of ienie corporeal, bear to the charms 
 Of moral virtue, which remote from fight 
 Lie latent in the mind ? 
 
 SOCR ATE s. 
 
 Come ; bend your thoughts 
 To moral and material light, and fee 
 The fair analogy : material light 
 Flows from the fburce of day, and paints the worli 
 In various bloom ; before it fly the clouds 
 Shot thro' with orient beam, and the blue vault 
 Of heaven fhines: the moral is a ray 
 Of rectitude divine, which gives the mind 
 To view ideal beauties, only feen 
 By reafbn's eye. As the material light 
 Warms and invigorates the genial leeds 
 Which nature lows, and brings them forth to life 
 Florid and fair; {o does the moral ray, 
 By an etherial influence raile to life 
 True virtue's feeds, congenial to the foul 
 When firft it felt the forming hand tliat rais'd 
 The moral lyftem. 
 
 Ar I s-
 
 22 SOCRATES, 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 This is ftated right, 
 And I affent : but ftill in what refpefl 
 Do moral and material light confift 
 With divination ? I would have the gods 
 Tell me in every aft, what fuits the ftate 
 Of intellectual beings ? what is rais'd 
 From realon's laws ? and what we muft derive 
 From a fuperior aid, which we exprels 
 By divination ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 When th' almighty God 
 By minifterial agents, form'd to fpeak 
 His ruling will, anfwers the humble fuit 
 Of the Athenian ftate, if reafon fails 
 To give a final fentence -, can you think 
 He does not lj3eak to you ? or when to Greeks 
 Taken at large, or to the human kind, 
 However fcatter'd o'er the face of earth, 
 He fends his folemn portents to denounce 
 W^hat fhall hereafter happen, or what now 
 Is iittef-t to be done ; can you imagine 
 That you alone, of all the human race, 
 Lie quite exempted from his ipecial care ? 
 Can you conceive that gods would plant in man 
 An innate notion, that they can difpenfe 
 Or pain or pleailire, if in real tail 
 They want the power to do fo ? or that men 
 Should be fo long deceiv'd, without leaft fcnfe 
 Of the deluflon ? muft you not confels 
 
 That
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 23 
 
 That realms and cities, which have foremoft ftood 
 
 In the records of fame, for arts polite 
 
 And wifciom's lore renown'd, have ever held 
 
 The gods in veneration high, and rais'd 
 
 Temoles and altars lacred to the ufe 
 
 Of rites divine ? and ftill the farther back 
 
 You call your eye on ages more remote. 
 
 Do not you find that divination reign'd 
 
 With ftronger force, and deeper fix'd the fenfe 
 
 Of watchful Providence ? 
 
 Aristodemus. 
 
 What ! can the God 
 You call fupreme, refide above the fpheres, 
 Yet rule the world with univerfal fway. 
 And keep each individual in his view? 
 This feems a paradox, which wants a proof — 
 
 Socrates. 
 You know, Ariftodemus, that the foul, 
 By a6live power the body moves, and guides 
 With arbitrary rule, and keeps the nerves 
 In proper tenfion, which by fecret iprings 
 Play on the mufcles : hence, can fenie perceive 
 What is imprels'd, and to the (bul convey 
 The images, from which it raiics plans 
 Of truth and fcience : muft not therefore God 
 Who fchem'd this fyftem, and whole eiTence fills 
 Th' unbounded univerfe, at will direct, 
 And rule the fettled whole by fecret laws 
 Which operate unfeen, be^'ond the v^erge 
 Of human fenfe ? does not your eye extend 
 
 To
 
 24 SOCRATES, 
 
 To half the firmament, and clearly iee 
 
 Objeds remote, tranfmltted thro' the thin 
 
 Pellucid air ? and cannot God, whofe eye 
 
 No darknels veils, with undivided view 
 
 Pervade the univerle, and fee the parts 
 
 Of things in embryo, ere the plaftic powers 
 
 Have perfefted the w ork ? is not the fpark 
 
 Divine which moves the intelle£lual powers 
 
 To think and a6]:, with as much cafe employ'd 
 
 On things in Eg)^pt, or in Sicily, 
 
 As well as here ? does it not wing it's way 
 
 As fw'iit as lightning ? and can He, who reigns 
 
 Sole univerfal Lord of heaven and earth 
 
 Be circumfcrib'd ? He, to whom men apply 
 
 In every place ? He, whofe all-hearing ear 
 
 Yields free attention to the humble fuit 
 
 Ot a meek heart, in fblcmn form addrels'd 
 
 To the fole Father of the gods and men 
 
 And beings of all kinds ? 
 
 A R I S T O D E M U S. 
 
 O Socrates, 
 You reafon right I the being who contrlv'd 
 This beauteous world, is only vifible 
 In thefe his works, which ipeak the powerful hand 
 That gave them birth. My mind is quite at eafe, 
 And I imbibe the facred ftream of truth 
 Vv^hich from thy foul with heav'nly wifdom flows. 
 
 [Exit A R I ST. 
 
 Chorus.
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 25 
 
 Cho R us. 
 All nature's works aloud proclaim 
 The great Creator's glorious name, 
 Where'er we turn the thinking mind, 
 The traces of his care we find. 
 At his command, who rules the ipheres. 
 And here in various forms appears,. 
 Alternate roll the day and night, 
 One for reft, and one for light : 
 And as the year-direfting fun 
 Does thro' the figns his journey run,. 
 The (ealbns in fuccefTive train 
 Viciflitude of rule maintain : 
 Now, Zephyrus and Flora fpread 
 Ambrofial odors o'er the mead : 
 Now, Ceres does her harveft yield, 
 And paint with wavy gold the field : 
 Now Autumn his ripe fruitage ftiows, 
 And drunk with wine the vintage flows : 
 Now, winter's froft and nitrous fnow 
 Prepare the way for vernal blow : 
 Each, as the year revolves, profufe 
 Of bleffings given for human ufe. 
 Gonfider how the fiin retires 
 And gradually withdraws his fires j 
 Left fudden cold ftiould chill the blood, 
 And check too foon the circling flood : 
 And how with gentle pace and flow, 
 His radiant beam begins to glow ; 
 
 B. Left
 
 z6 SOCRATES, 
 
 Left tortur'd fenfe too (bon fhould feel 
 The fen or of his rapid wheel, 
 Ere rifing gradual in his ftrength, 
 He ihoots his ray to utmoft length : 
 Thus, from each tropic does he turn, 
 Nor prone to freeze, nor prone to burn: 
 Is this retreat, and this advance. 
 The work of Providence or chance ? 
 Sage Socrates has gain'd the field, 
 And made Ariftodemus yield : 
 Ariftodemus, too, is bleftj 
 His mind {erene, his Ibul at reft. 
 
 ACT
 
 A Dramatic POEM. ^'J 
 
 A C T II. SCENE!. 
 
 SCENE, SocRATEs's houfe. 
 
 Socrates iblus. 
 
 IF E E L a firmneis in my heart that Ipeaks 
 All fhall be well — the Deity, on whom 
 My foul depends, and who informs my mind 
 To think and judge aright, * reftrain'd my will ' 
 When twice I ftrove to make a fair defence — 
 Hence do I clearly learn, that God decrees 
 From this corporeal pris'n I fhould be freed. 
 Parent of all things ! what I hold is thine : 
 Chiefly th' intelle£iual part, whole being, 
 Of thy divinity true femblance bears. 
 
 Enter Hermogenes. 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 Hail venerable iage ! thy vifage feems 
 To wear the fmile of eale j and lliew a mind 
 Serene and calm. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 The mind can never want 
 True-tafted Joys, when difengag'd from earth 
 And mean purfuits, in fearch of truths fublime 
 Fair beauty charms, in her moral luftre. 
 
 "* Xen. in Apol. 
 
 E 2 Hermogenes.
 
 28 SOCRATES, 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 Thy ibul, great Socrates, is ever bent 
 On meditations deep, which merit praife 
 From gods and men : but I bcieech thee think 
 Of making thy defence ; full well you know 
 The fentence is gone forth, and thou Ihalt ftand 
 A fiery trial ; thy accufers hold 
 Cloie confultation ; and the time is fix'd 
 When the court fits to hear the heavy charge. 
 
 So CR A TE s. 
 
 Know then, my friend, if innocence can plead 
 A righteous caufe, I am prepar'd to ftand 
 The ftri£left icrutiny. For my whole life 
 Alone is my defence. 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 O Socrates ! 
 Athenian judges by perfuafive arts 
 Of eloquence miflcd, do oft acquit 
 The greateft criminal ; as oft' condemn 
 The innoceat to death. 
 
 SOCR AT e s. 
 
 Let rage diicharge 
 It's hotteft bolts ; I can fuftain the fhock. 
 Intrepid and unmov'd ; fixt as the laws 
 Of Him who reigns above : his will is juft 
 And therefore fhall be mine 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 
 Thy fcntimcnts 
 Are truly great, and iliew in native light 
 The dignity of man : but, tho' thy mind 
 
 Be
 
 ( 
 
 A Dramatic POEM. zp 
 
 Be refolute and firm, do not the gods 
 Approve of human means, to fave a life 
 Which only they can give ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 If He who fits 
 Supreme o'er gods and men, permit the laws 
 To lay this body wafl:e ; it is no more 
 Than what I owe to death, which fbon will l 
 The final blow. Was not this earth-born fram 
 I bear about me made to feel decay. 
 And iufFer change ? the foul is Socrates ; 
 And that fhall never die : 'tis now on wing 
 To meet the blefling which my God decrees. 
 
 Hermoge ne s. 
 O Socrates ! the law of nature foon 
 Will clofe the fcene of life, and thou fhalt fall 
 Like mellow fruit that from a goodly tree 
 Drops in full age — do not anticipate 
 The fatal hour. 
 
 Socrates. 
 The Deity, who law 
 How each fine thread in the fair web of life 
 Was wrought in nature's loom, ere yet the heart 
 Began to beat, or breathing lungs imbib'd 
 Th' expanfive air ; that Deity, by whom 
 I think and a£l:, knows when the fpring of life 
 Should ceafe to play : and duty bids me pay 
 The debt of nature, when He makes the claim. 
 
 Hermoge NEs.
 
 -o SOCRATES, 
 
 :> 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 'Tis true, my Socrates— we muft refign 
 Our lives on his demand ; but how can we 
 Forclee the point of time, wherein he means 
 To call us to account ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 That voice divine 
 That pure ctherial Daemon which reftrains 
 My relblutions, when it finds they tend 
 To hurtful or immoral ends, forbade 
 That I fhould flee from juftice, and the force 
 Of civil laws. 
 
 He rmogenes. 
 Wond'rous indeed, the charge 
 Your Doemon gave ! 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Are you furpriz'd, that God 
 Should know the {eafbn when I ought to leave 
 This houie of clay, and fbar to regions free 
 From pain and death ? Melitus may deilroy,. 
 But cannot hurt me ; what is Socrates 
 His malice cannot reach. 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 O Socrates ! 
 Thy life is worthy of the care of heaven ; 
 And if the God with-holds thee from defence 
 Of ipotlefs innocence, he doubtlefs means 
 By other methods to prepare a way 
 For thy efcape, and fiiatch thee from the hand 
 
 Of furicus rage. 
 
 SoCRATESg
 
 A Dramatic POEM. ^i 
 
 Socrates. 
 'Tis true, my friend, he means 
 This frame fhould fall, while yet my thinking powers 
 Are ftrong and clear, and the (bul fit to mix 
 With fpirits void of guilt, that never feel 
 The violence of force, but free as light 
 Spontaneous move, obfequious to the laws 
 That rule their being, 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 
 What you (ay is proof 
 Of a (uperior ftate, on which your foul 
 Seems too intent, ere yet the race of life 
 Is fully run : you, train'd to virtue's lore 
 Are ever ready to refign the life 
 Your Maker gave you ; but, O think, what lofs 
 Your friends lliall (uffer, when the living ftream 
 In which pure wifHom flow'd, fhall be remov'd 
 From public ufe ! think how a wicked age 
 Shall want your hand to hold the reins that rule 
 The moral ftate ! O ! do but calmly think 
 Of this cataftrophe, and you will ufe 
 All proper means to fhun the fhares that lie 
 In wait for your deftru6lion. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 O, my friend ! 
 My life's of import fniall ; for what remains 
 By nature's laws, I cannot call my own 
 To any ufeful purpofe of my being. 
 Now I look back with pleaiure on a life 
 Well Ipent in virtue's caufe j I can recall 
 
 Freili
 
 -2 SOCRATES. 
 
 Vrdln to the mind the rcafbns that fuppoit 
 My moral precepts, and reveal the fprings, 
 Of good and evil: now in connexion juft. 
 The laws which ought to rule this civil ftate 
 Are full in view : but Ihould more years roll o'er 
 This tempeft-beaten head, my harrafs'd mind 
 Would lofe it's force, as when the evening ray 
 Is loft in night : the ranging eye would fail 
 To view great nature's Iplendor, and the world 
 Be one large blank : nor could the unton'd ear 
 Im.bibe the happy founds, and tafte the fweets 
 Which flow from friendfhip's tongue : the loul unfit 
 To cull ideas from a mingled mafs. 
 And fhape them into form : the memory^,. 
 Unable to retain, what erft I gain'd 
 From choice refle£lions, made on nature's laws ; , 
 From which, as from a treafury I drew, 
 As moral virtue, or the public weal 
 Requir'd my aid, ftill ready to expend- 
 All I could gather for the common good— 
 This would Melitus own— did he not view 
 My life w ith jaundic'd eyes : I therefore chufe 
 To die, v/hile joyous converle with my friends,, 
 Shall ipread a luftre o'er the gloomy hour. 
 
 Hermogenes. 
 I wifh I could prevail— O may the God 
 On whom you place your confidence, fupport 
 The merit of your caufe, and guard a fife 
 Which wildom honours, and which virtue loves. 
 
 [Exit Her. 
 
 Chorus*
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 33 
 
 Chorus. 
 Hall happy fage, by men admlr'd, 
 And by a voice divine inipir'd ! 
 Thy courage does exalt the mind 
 To notions high and thoughts refin'd. 
 In all thy lentiments we view 
 Something fublime, and fbmething new. 
 With heav'nly warmth thy virtue glows, 
 And fhews the fburce from which it flows. 
 To thoughts of death you bravely yield, 
 And conquer, when you lofe the field, 
 In hafte to leave this clouded ftatc, 
 Eager to enter heaven's bleft gate, 
 Where obje£ls new frefh joys dilpenfc, 
 And pleale the intelleftual ienfe; 
 Where the foul ranges with delight. 
 And drinks th' eternal ftream of liglit. 
 
 SCENE 11. Socrates folus. 
 
 Methinks I feel uncommon (pirits flow 
 
 Thro' all my frame ; and the foul-chearing voice, 
 
 Whofe kind monitions I moft {acred deem, 
 
 Tells me there is a place where all that now 
 
 Seems fo unequal here, Ihall be adjudg'd 
 
 By weight unerring, as they higher rile, 
 
 Or lower fall, in the celeftial fcales 
 
 Of juftice infinite, which Ihall award 
 
 To each it's portion — Then Ihall Providence 
 
 Reveal the Iprings that move the moral world ; 
 
 F Aiul
 
 34 SOCRATES, 
 
 And iKall to merit or demerit deal 
 In JLill proportion, vengeance or reward — 
 Virtue, hail ! thy influence firfl: reform'd 
 The favage mind, and from his dens and caves 
 Caird forth untutor'd man, to bear the reins 
 Ot civil rule ! from thee, as from their head, 
 Sprung love and friendlliip, and the focial laws 
 From thee deriv'd their moral force ! one day 
 . Spent in thy precepts, is to be preferr'd 
 To an eternity of vice ! 
 
 Enter a Meflenger from court. 
 
 Messenger. 
 All hail ! 
 The court now aweful fits ; and I am fent 
 To call thee forth to juftice. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Is the court 
 Prepar'd to hear me ? Is MeHtus there ? 
 
 Mess e nger. 
 He is— and ready to make good the charge 
 He brings againft thee. 
 
 Socr axes. 
 
 It may be {b — 
 
 I'll follow thee. O ! author of my life ! 
 
 Sole felf-exiftent efTcnce, from whole power 
 All things derive their being, and whofe hand 
 Suftains the unlverfc ! be bounteous ftill 
 To give me what is good ! and iKould I (iiQ 
 
 For
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 35 
 
 For what I ought not, be it thine to check 
 The fond defire, and teach me how to pray 
 For what I ought, how beft I may purfue 
 What beft becomes the dignity of man 
 Made for eternity : and thou iweet voice, 
 Offspring of heav'n, that doft purfue my foul 
 Thro' all it's turnings, let not fear of death 
 Move me to plead, what may be found unfit 
 For me to utter, or for God to hear ! 
 
 Exit S o c R r 
 
 Chorus of etherial Spirits. 
 
 Firft Spi R IT. 
 I gave his mind with eaie to move, 
 
 Second Spirit. 
 I fill'd it with celeftial love, 
 
 Firft Spirit. 
 I gave him courage to impart 
 The moral dictates of the heart. 
 
 Second Spirit. 
 1 calm'd the temper of his brain, 
 And made the pafTions all flrene. 
 
 Both. 
 Sage Socrates can never ftray 
 From heav'n-born virtue's facred way ^ 
 Or from the laws, which God defign'd 
 Should rule the motions of his mind. 
 
 ACT
 
 36 SOCRATES, 
 
 ji 
 
 A C T III. SCENE, The Tribunal. 
 President, Judges, Melitus, Socrates. 
 
 M E L I T U S . 
 
 NOBLE Athenians, he, whom I arraign, 
 Has Introduc'd new gods, other than thofe 
 Whom Athens worfhips ; and by fubtle arts 
 To him beft known, does ahenate the minds 
 Of youth from firm attachment to the law^s 
 Of the Athenian ftate, by novel (chemes 
 Of virtue and religion, form'd to lay 
 Our iacred rites afide ; and introduce 
 Doftrincs abhorrent from the facred laws 
 Of our forefathers, who were wont to teach 
 That all the bleflings we derive from heav'n 
 Are owing to the gods, when each is (erv'd 
 By minlrtcries due and (blemn rites 
 According to his rank : but Socrates 
 Talks high of infpiration, and a Daemon 
 Who brings him new behefts from heav'n, and fills 
 His mind with notions alien from the fenfe 
 Of civil law^s, and myfteries divine 
 Which we hold facred. 
 
 President. 
 
 Let the criminal 
 Plead to the caufe, if iuch a caufe can bear 
 The leafl: defence. 
 
 Firft
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 37 
 
 Firft Judge. 
 It is a heavy charge 
 Which feems to carry death. 
 
 Second Judge. 
 
 But let the caufe 
 Be fairly heard :-— we fit on Hfc and death. 
 
 All. 
 Let it be heard. 
 
 PrES I D ENT. 
 
 Ye reverend fages, 
 Highly renown'd in the Athenian ftate, 
 For all the wifdom of the temper'd breaft ; 
 We do not here convene in common form 
 To hear this fmgle caufe, but to fupport 
 The civil laws, and the religious rites 
 On which our ftate depends — be your debates 
 With calm inveftigation always rul'd. 
 
 So C R AT E s. 
 
 O ye Athenians, I am (ummon'd here 
 To plead the cauie of innocence and virtue— 
 This furrow'd front, and filver-fliining hair 
 Confefs my age : this country is my mother, 
 My father Athens' fon ; here did I firft 
 Imbibe th' enlivening air, and as fair truth, 
 As copious knowledge join'd with wifdom, flow'd 
 From learning's fpring, I trac'd the living lines 
 Of virtue's laws, till feventy funs have rolFd 
 Their annual round — 
 
 Mel IT us.
 
 38 SOCRATES^ 
 
 Mel ITU s. 
 O judges, bid him fpcalc 
 DlrciTlly to the charge — this lophifter 
 Has learn'd the art to change at will the modes ) 
 
 Of rio-ht and wrong-, and make dark cauies w^ear 
 A fair diiguile. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Ye muft, Athenians, know 
 That truth is facred ; and I call the * gods 
 Who rule this ftate to witnels that I fpeak 
 The di6latcs of my heart, in language void 
 Of art or ornament ; that beft becomes 
 The orator, who pleads a labour'd caufe 
 For fame or fortune ; but that florid ftrain 
 Wears not the garb of truth, which fhould appear 
 In plain and fimple drels — Melitus argues 
 That I fuborn new gods, to overturn 
 The f^icred rites, which have for ages paft 
 Govern'd this ftate— Were this bold charge as true 
 As 'tis ievere, I doubtlels ought to feel 
 The rigour of the laws, and Ihould refign 
 
 * It may perhaps furprlze the reader to meet fevetal paflages in this poem, 
 where Socrates I'eems to acknowledge polytheilm, though condemned for hold- 
 ing the unity of the Godheadj but this feeming admiflion he faw neccffary to in- 
 gratiate himfelf with the people, in order to propagate his own dodtrincs, and 
 
 wean them from their fuperftitious idolatry he therefore complied with their 
 
 outward ceremonies, by facrificing [a) to the gods on the public alt: r j ; and 
 by thus conforming to their modes of worfhip {l>) he protecSted himlelf from 
 the profecution of the prieflhood, and had frequent opportunities of converfing 
 with the moft confiderable Athenians, and by his cogent arguments of gaining 
 them over to the belief of one fupreme, and only God. 
 
 (tf) Xen. Mcmor. (/) Flat. ApoL 
 
 My
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 39 
 
 My life a vl£lim to appea(e the wrath 
 
 Of injur'd heaven— -But from what latent cauie 
 
 The charge Ihould rife, that I have introduc'd 
 
 Doctrines abhorrent from the iacred rites 
 
 Of our forefathers, is a myftery 
 
 I can't unveil : for on all feftal days 
 
 On public altars, and in fblemn form, 
 
 I pay my vows ; this might Melitus ice 
 
 In open day, did not pale envy caft 
 
 A mift before his eyes. Or how can I 
 
 Suborn new deities, when I have taught 
 
 That a ftill voice from heaven infpires my foul 
 
 With (acred thoughts, and tells me what is fit 
 
 And proper to be done ? f They, who conlult 
 
 The notes of birds, or omens draw from men. 
 
 Gather conje6lures from the vocal found, 
 
 And aft as that direfts ; when thunders roll 
 
 Thro' the aerial way, do not they fpeak 
 
 With aweful voice, and carry on their wings 
 
 The fates of empires ? does not Pythia fwell 
 
 With {acred rage, and impulle not her own, 
 
 When from the tripod of the Delphic god 
 
 She {peaks th' Almighty purpole ? — Now, that He 
 
 Who rules fupreme, can take a fimple view 
 
 Of all futurity, and {ee the fates 
 
 Of things in embryo ; nations do confcls 
 
 As well as I : but then, while others hold 
 
 That figns and omens of thcmlelves portend 
 
 Future events ; I teach they only aft 
 
 -j- Xenoph, in Apol. Socr. 
 
 As
 
 40 SOCRTAES, 
 
 As minlftcrlal agents that derive 
 Their telling powers from God, whole voice alone: 
 All divination guides : for, even I, 
 This Socrates, whom envy here arraigns, 
 Have told my friends what good or bad effe£ls 
 Would from their conduft rife, fhould they purfue 
 What was refolv'd ; and I was never found 
 To err from truth. 
 
 [Here a tumult arilcs among the judges.] 
 
 Me L I T u s. 
 Now, Socrates, you fee 
 The judges are incens'd, and cannot yield 
 AlTent to what you fay ; nor do they think 
 That you are more in favour with the gods 
 Than they who feem mofl worthy of their care— 
 What arrogance ! does infpiration fuit 
 A mind like thi>ie ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 If they will not believe 
 What I affert ; I hope they will attend 
 To what the oracle pronounc'd, when Chcerephon,, 
 A friend to the Athenian ftate, enquir'd 
 What the god thought of me, and many fl:ood 
 Prepared to hear the facred voice aloud 
 Proclaim my praife : and tho' our common friend 
 Be now no more, * his brother is alive. 
 And can atteil the fuSl : let him come forth 
 And fpeak his fouJ. 
 
 * Cha?rocrates. 
 
 Melitus=
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 41 
 
 Me L IT us. 
 
 O judges ! can ye bear 
 This infblence of tongue ? no ; now I fee 
 The tumult rage. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Ye know, Athenians, this 
 Moft fblemn place fhould ever be attach'd 
 To iacred truth — hear me again, and learn 
 How little I aflume — When he who form'd 
 The Spartan laws with humble fuit addrefs'd 
 Apollo's fhrine ; the Pythian flood (uipenfe 
 Whether to hail Lycurgus as a god, 
 Or call him man : but me, in whom he found 
 No figns of deity, he only rais'd 
 High in the fcale of prudence, and pronounc'd 
 That I in wifdom's lore by far excell'd 
 The human race ; wifdom not mine, but given : 
 Nor have I plum'd myfelf with proud conceit. 
 Nor 'mongft my fellows borne my forehead high, 
 As conlcious of fuperior worth of mind. 
 And more exalted knowledge ; well I know 
 All talents rare, all rich accomplilliments 
 Are given by God, to the pofleffor's truft, , 
 For purpofes of public weal alone. 
 With modefty and meeknefs befl; employ 'd : 
 And if ye will but backward turn your eyes 
 On my paft life, and view it's various {cenes 
 In all their lights ; perhaps ye may aflent 
 To what the god declar'd ; for from the time 
 Of early age, I labour'd to explore 
 
 G The
 
 42 SOCRATES, 
 
 The depths of rcafon ; firft Indeed, I rang'd 
 
 The wide etherial way, to trace the orbs 
 
 That various roll above, and meafurc times 
 
 In due proportion to the laws that rule 
 
 Their revolutions : but as this purluit 
 
 Was dark and intricate, beyond the ken 
 
 Of reafbn's eye ; 'twas I, who firft brought down 
 
 Philofbphy from heav'n, and made it Ihine 
 
 In courts and cities : I firft taught the laws 
 
 That humanize the foul, and make it tafte 
 
 The fweets of moral charms : I found the path 
 
 That leads where juftice reigns, and fix'd the bounds 
 
 Of right and wrong : this does all Athens know, 
 
 Whoie citizens in numbers flock to hear 
 
 My moral le£lures, which I freely give 
 
 Without reward ; while venal fbphifts fell 
 
 Their gilded bane, which taints the tender feeds 
 
 Of virtue ere they fpring, and gives the mind 
 
 A turn to vice : have not I clofe purfu'd 
 
 Their fpecious wiles, and lliewn the fnares they fpread 
 
 To catch unguarded fouls ? Athenians, fay 
 
 If this be true ; do not I merit praife 
 
 From gods and men ? and that I fpeak the truth. 
 
 Your filence is a proof But I infer 
 
 I'hat if we take the oracle aright. 
 
 It only deem'd me v/ifeft of all men, 
 
 Bccauic the narrow bounds of human minds 
 
 I beft have known, and moft have been convinc'd 
 
 That God alone is wile — But ye are told 
 
 That I corrupt the youth-— can doctrines form'd 
 
 To
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 4j 
 
 To meliorate the mind with manly fenie, 
 And give the foul to tafte fair virtue's charms ; 
 Can dictates of this kind divert the thoughts 
 Of giddy youth from paying due regard 
 To civil inftitutes and (acred rites 
 In veneration held ? 
 
 Mel itus. 
 O Socrates ! 
 The cafe is plain — for I could here produce 
 Undoubted proofs, that by fome artful wiles 
 You gain the youth, and make them more obey 
 You than their parents. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 I confefs the charge 
 You bring againft me, and with eafe can fhew 
 How wide you ftray — Say, when difeafe or pain 
 AiTails the human frame, do parents mix 
 The healing draught ? does not the patient run 
 To y^fculapius' fbns for aid, who know 
 The malady and cure ? and is it deem'd 
 No proof of prudence to reftore the mind 
 To a found flate by proper means of cure 
 Which operate with force, and give the foul 
 To think aright, ere yet the paflions rule 
 With freedom uncontroul'd ? do not we find 
 That even fauns forfake their dams to feed 
 Where pafture calls ? do not the tender plants 
 Rejoice in fertile foil, where genial heat 
 Invigorates the glebe ? view nature round, 
 And you will find that every thing inclines 
 
 G 2 To
 
 44 SOCRATES, 
 
 To what Is beft : and fliould not human minds, 
 
 Offspring of htavcn, ray of omnipotence. 
 
 By innate impulfe tend where fcience leads 
 
 To rational delight, which gives a fpring . ' 
 
 To intcllc£lual powers ? When fuits depend 
 
 In civil courts, do not Athenians chule 
 
 The ableil: orators, to plead their cauie 
 
 With ftrength of reafbn, and adjuft the bounds 
 
 Of right and wrong ? or when they mean to fend 
 
 Their armies forth,, or to apply the force 
 
 Of penal laws ; does not {uperior worth 
 
 Dlrc£l their luffrages, without regard 
 
 To neareft friends ? do even fathers ftand 
 
 In competition ? or can brothers claim 
 
 A preference, when public voices ipeak 
 
 Aloud for merit ? - ' 
 
 M E L I T U S . 
 
 This I own is true. 
 But with thy circumftance it little fuits : 
 Have you aught elle to plead ? 
 
 Socrates.. 
 
 Is it not ftrange 
 That other men, by merit rals'd, ihould meet 
 With high eftccm : and yet that I, fb fam'd 
 For moral dllapllne, the greateft good 
 W^hlch heaven can heftow, ITiould here be calfd 
 In queftlon for my life ? Is it a proof 
 That I deny the gods, and introduce 
 A new religion alien from the laws 
 Of the Athenian ftate, when here I fbnd 
 
 Arralgn'd
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 45 
 
 Arralgn'd for virtue's caufc, which by the gods 
 
 And all wile men was ever (acred deem'd ? 
 
 But let us change the Icene. — I clearly {ee 
 
 In this great court, fathers and ions, who long 
 
 My dictates Ibught ; let them ftand forth and ipeak 
 
 Their inmoft foul, whether they found the ftream 
 
 Corrupt or pure — their filence leems to plead 
 
 The merit of my cauie — they know I ftand 
 
 On a fure ground, uniliaken as a rock 
 
 That bears the force of ftorms, yet ftill remains 
 
 Firm on the bale, and rears it's lofty head 
 
 Above the clouds. While therefore purple blood 
 
 Runs thro' thele veins, I neither can repent 
 
 Nor change my condu61. When I carried arms, 
 
 Let Potidaea, let Amphipolis 
 
 Confefs my courage : let Boeotians fliy 
 
 How firm I ftood at Delium, on the edge 
 
 Of battle where it rag'd ; and when a flood 
 
 Of arms pour'd on us, meafur'd back the field 
 
 Only by inches, while our foldiers fled 
 
 On all the wings of fear: I did retreat; 
 
 But like a lion that dilclains repulle, 
 
 1 fac'd the foe, and held my (word prepar'd 
 
 Againft aflault : if I, who thus in war 
 
 Approv'd my courage to reftore the rights 
 
 Which Athens claim'd, iliould now defert the poft 
 
 Which heav'n aflign'd me, and thro' fear of death 
 
 Ceafe to prepare the minds of youth 
 
 For virtue's laws, and make them fit to rule 
 
 In peace or war; then might I freely own, 
 
 Thax:
 
 j^6 SOCRATES, 
 
 That I am juftly cited to appear 
 Before this o-reat tribunal, here convcn'd 
 To fit on life or death. Or Ihoiild the laws 
 Remit their force, in cafe I lliould renounce 
 My former doctrines ; whom ihould I oKey ? 
 God ? or this court ?— Know then, Athenians, 
 That w ith my latefl breath I will exhort 
 Botli young and old, and ufe all proper means 
 To purge their fouls from vice, and make them fbar 
 Above this fordid earth, on which their thoughts 
 Seem too intent ; unconfcious that the foul 
 Is the whole man, and iliould be rul'd by laws 
 Of a fuperior kind, which fuit the port 
 Of intellectual beings that partake 
 Of pureft eflencc, flowing from the fburce 
 Of immaterial life.— This, judges, is the fum 
 Of what I have to plead— If aught remains 
 As yet unanfvver'd, let Melitus fpeak. 
 Who call'd me forth to judgment. 
 
 Melitus. 
 
 O Socrates, 
 I charge you with a crime, w^hich Athens knows 
 As well as I — you freely give advice 
 To private friends, and yet you never mix 
 In public councils where affairs of ftate 
 Demand your prelence ; which is deem'd a proof 
 Of difaffedion to the common weal 
 Under whofe care you live. 
 
 Socrates.
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 47 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Since firft I found 
 The (acred iburce whence virtue (prings; nor agQ 
 Nor ftation check'd my zeal to prefs the force 
 Of moral laws, on which the civil ftate 
 Mainly depends : for muft not juftice hold 
 An even (cale ? and fortitude arife 
 From an exalted mind, that fees the wheels 
 By which things move, and can retard the iprlngs 
 Or a<Sluate their force ? fay,, do I ibw 
 The feeds of virtue, in a place retir'd 
 From public view ? does any private fchool 
 Conceal my doftrines, as unfit to view 
 The open light ? da not the common ways 
 Where all refort, the ftreets and courts and camps 
 Ring with my voice ? and yet I never chang'd 
 My moral condu£l, but with ftrengtli of mind 
 Unfhaken from within, or from without, 
 Purfued my courfe, and flem'd the tide of vice. 
 Where'er I found it fiow, without leaft view 
 To friendiliip or to gain : and that I fliun 
 Public affemblies, is not the refult 
 Of difaffecSlion, but of voice divine 
 That moves my foul, and bids me not engage 
 In flate affairs. Nor is it flrano-e that God 
 By an interior impulle fhould convey 
 His. will to man ; tor does not foul to fc)ul 
 Communicate it's thoughts, by ways that fult 
 Our prefent ftate ? and may not God, who form'd, 
 The foul to thought, and fees the fecret Iprings 
 
 By
 
 48 SOCRATES, 
 
 By which it operates, dire(fl: the mind 
 
 In all It's motions ? might he not forefee 
 
 That ihould I meddle in the public weal. 
 
 That \lvld zeal with which he fir'd my loul 
 
 To plead the caufc of right, would foon deftroy 
 
 This crazy frame, and fruftrate the defign 
 
 He had in \icw' ? But, (ay, does he who wears 
 
 The civil robe, or he who trains the mind 
 
 To rules of juftice, and the lacred laws 
 
 Of truth and virtue, more deierve the name 
 
 Of a true patriot ? he who fills the chair, 
 
 Or he who moves in an inferior orb. 
 
 But always with defign to Ihew mankind 
 
 That virtue is his care ? O candid friends ! 
 
 (For iuch I deem you) think not that I fpeak 
 
 In pride, or envy ; that ill fuits a mind 
 
 Nurtur'd in humble thoughts, confcious that God 
 
 Alone is truly wile : yet this is plain 
 
 To reafbn's eye, and evidence ot fenie. 
 
 That a philoiopher, who means to plead 
 
 His country's facred caufe, muft live retir'd 
 
 From civil broils, and in his calm retreat 
 
 Plan fchcmes of dilcipline that may fupport 
 
 The moral law^s and inftitutes of right. 
 
 Without whofe fan6lion anarchy prevails. 
 
 [Here Anytus and Lycon prefent themfelves 
 alfb as the accufers of Socrates, and draw 
 over a great number of voices. 
 
 President.
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 49 
 
 President. 
 Judges, you've heard what Socrates could plead 
 In his own caufe, and know the heavy charge 
 
 Melitus brought againft him let the fuffrages 
 
 Be fairly number'd : their decifion fbon 
 Will end the point. 
 
 Enter an Officer of court. 
 
 Officer.- 
 The votes by thirty-three 
 Are againft Socrates. 
 
 President. 
 Are the fuffrages 
 
 Exadly taken ? " 
 
 Officer. 
 Sir, the icrutiny 
 
 Is fair and right I've number'd to a man 
 
 With faithful care 
 
 President. 
 As then, O Socrates ! 
 
 Tho' with a melting heart, I fpeak their (enle 
 
 I muft pronounce thee guilty may the gods 
 
 Raife in their fouls the fentiments I feel 
 On thy conviction, and infpire their hearts 
 With principles humane, which Ihould regard 
 Thy age and virtue, and beft iuit the genius 
 Of a people generous in other things 
 
 Of far lels moment Let the judges know 
 
 What penalty you think befits the crimes 
 For which you ftand condemn'd. 
 
 H Socrates.
 
 5^ 
 
 SOCRATES, 
 
 Socrates. 
 I cannot charge 
 My foul with guilt, from which 1 am as free 
 As children yet unborn ; for even now 
 No perturbation, no pain-brooding thought 
 Mclcfts my confcience, but the better part 
 Is all ierene, as if a ray from heaven 
 Had clear'd my foul, and gave it light to view 
 A pleafing fcene. I know, Melitus means 
 Death for my punifliment ; but it is held, 
 The laws can mitigate what he prefumes 
 A proper penalty : yet what than death 
 
 Can better fuit my cafe ? * To pay a fine 
 
 Is to confels a ."-uilt, which more than death 
 
 My foul abhors ; or were I fo diipos'd, 
 
 A mind is the whole ranfbm I could pay 
 
 For my devoted life, perhaps a goal 
 
 Mi^ht make atonement but would fervile chains 
 
 Become the dignity of man, ordam'd 
 
 * Socrates knew that he could plead for death to be changed into imprlfon- 
 nieat, baniHiment, or a pecuniary fine ; but he openly declared, that by chaf- 
 ing any of thefe punifhments he Ihould confefs himfelf guilty for it was a. 
 
 cuflom at Athens, not to give fentence in criminal caufes at one fingle hear- 
 ing : they determined in the firft place, whether the accufed was guilty or not;; 
 aiid if he was guilty, he was allowed for his laft refuge to demand a dimi- 
 nution of the puniihment, which his arcufer had required againft him, and 
 upon that demand of the accufed, the judges gave their votes a fecond time, 
 and aftci- that he received his laft fentence. Cicero i . de Oratore. 
 
 Diogenes fays he offered twenty drachma's (v/hich is abou!:- twelve /hillings) 
 others mention ten crowns, and Plato makes him promife three hundred 
 crowns, for the payment of which his friends offered to engage ; but Xeno- 
 phon denies this, and fays, that he would neither tax himfelf, nor fuffer his 
 friends to do it for him. Xenophon in Apol. 
 
 For
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 51 
 
 For nobler ends than to preferve a life 
 
 On ignominious terms ? or fhould I chu(c 
 
 To live in exile, rather than fiibmit 
 
 To penal death j how could my feeble limbs 
 
 Move on from place to place, a foreigner 
 
 In ev'ry clime ? If here I fail to meet 
 
 With due regards ; here, where the mules fix'd 
 
 Their lacred feat— if when I lliew'd a mind 
 
 Stable and firm, beyond the ulual ftrength 
 
 Of manly force, and lavilh'd from my ftorcs 
 
 All I was bleft with to reform the minds 
 
 Of young and old ; if here I ftand condemn'd 
 
 For virtue's caufe ; what muft I not expeft 
 
 From people lels refin'd, whole morals reign 
 
 Yet more corrupt and vile ? for, even there, 
 
 I would purfue the talk which heaven afllgn'd, 
 
 And gave me in ftri£l charge, to purge the foul 
 
 From moral turpitude, and make it tafte 
 
 The heav'nly fweets that virtue's garland wears. 
 
 This was the province, which the God who rules 
 
 The moral world entrufted to my care, 
 
 When he look'd down from heaven, and faw the minds 
 
 Of mortals go aftray : and fhould I fall 
 
 A martyr to the caufe ; I have recourfe 
 
 To a tribunal, where the Judge who knows 
 
 The fecrets of my heart, as fbon can change 
 
 His effence, as depart from the ftri£t rules 
 
 Which bind eternal juftice— Countrymen ! 
 
 Hear me again, but hear me with a mind 
 
 Benevolent, and congruous to thofe 
 
 H 2 Who
 
 Sz SOCRATES, 
 
 Who fit on death— t Ye have a houfe, defign'd 
 
 For doing honour to the men who ferve 
 
 Their country's caufc— to that retreat I doom 
 
 This ancient body, fhatter'd and decay'd 
 
 1 hro' age and labour, there to be maintain'd 
 
 By the republic, for the care I took 
 
 or Athens' ions, to whom I iacrific'd 
 
 My private intercft, which I made to yield 
 
 To public good ; of this my poverty 
 
 Is a clear proof— And I to this award 
 
 Have better claim, than he who wins a prize 
 
 In the Olympic games ; whether he fly 
 
 On rapid wheels, or gains the glorious meed 
 
 By flrength of arm : in him, ye only Jeem 
 
 To be a happy people ; but 1 ftrove 
 
 To make ye fo. This is the penalty 
 
 W hich I Ihould chuie, in cafe I do not fall 
 
 A facrifice to rao-e. 
 
 o 
 
 Judges. 
 Th' hemlock ! — hemlock. 
 President. 
 Now, Socrates, you lee to what an end 
 Your fpeech has brought you :— you're condemn'd to drink 
 1 he deadly draught — 
 
 Socrates. 
 'Tis well ; I thank them for it. 
 That final draught is more to be defir'd 
 
 -j- This houlc was called the Pfytaneum ; it was a magnificent building 
 where the council of tlie Prytanes afiembled, and where thoie wlio had ren- 
 dered any fignal fervice to the flate, and thofe who had won the prize at the 
 Olympic games, were maintained at the expence of the public. Plat. Apoh 
 
 Than
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 53 
 
 Than their rich wines— methlnks I feel the tafle 
 Already on my palate : fbon 'twill mix 
 With the warm blood, and Socrates fhall fly 
 From this retarding frame, and fbar to heaven. 
 
 Judges, at your command, Fm only going 
 To futfer death, to which I was condemn'd 
 From the firft moment of my birth : but they 
 By whom I fall, iliall feel a heavier doom 
 By the decrees of truth ; that facred law 
 By which the living God unerring deals 
 Rewards and punilhments — To him with joy 
 I do refign my being, and fubmit 
 To his eternal will— I know to die 
 Is only to put off this mortal garb 
 That I may live for ever, where the rage 
 Of men has no accels, nor can dillurb 
 The peaceful manfions of rewarded famts 
 That never die. Know then, that when the zeal 
 Of faftion cools, ye w^ill deplore the loft 
 Of this old Socrates, ordain'd by God 
 Your guardian here, to vmdicate the rights 
 Of virtue's cauie, whom I have long purili'd 
 Thro' all her tracks, and view'd her virgin tram; 
 Array'd in robes of azure and of gold,. 
 The work of heav'n ! Mc, ihall ibme future bards 
 Applaud in choral fymphony attun'd 
 To the Creator's praiie, from whom delcends 
 All that is good and juft ; but chiefly 1 hcu, 
 Tranfceadent being, offspring of the God 
 
 WliO
 
 54 
 
 i^OCRATES, 
 
 Who reigns alone ! O Virtue ! I would die 
 Ten thoufund deaths to have thy lovely form 
 For ever in my view!— But give me leave 
 To afk this boon, ere I am carried hence ^ 
 Permit me to embrace and bid farewel 
 To thefe my friends, who In their fouls abhor 
 The guilty deed— O judges (for to you 
 Whofe hearts are open to the truth, that name 
 
 Of right belongs) to you I would impart 
 
 What now my mind fuggefts, left anxious thoughts 
 
 Concernlno: w^hat is here decreed, fhould raile 
 
 Commotion In your fouls : know then, the dsemon, 
 
 That \'olce prophetic, which I never hear 
 
 But when it means to check the fond purfult 
 
 Of fomethlng I refolv'd; that voice divine 
 
 Neither oppos'd me when I hither came 
 
 By order of the court, nor curb'd my tongue 
 
 When I purfu'd the merits of my caufe 
 
 With a firm mind ; tho' oft' at other times 
 
 It ftopt me Ihort, perhaps in the midway 
 
 Of my dlfcourfe : from whence I fair infer. 
 
 That what was done will in event produce 
 
 A real good. If in our lateft breath 
 
 The fplrit vaniflies in air, and feels 
 
 No more fenlatlons ; or if death, as fbme 
 
 Would have us think, be fimllar to fleep 
 
 Devoid of vifions even feen in dreams. 
 
 When the foul refts from thought ; death in that view 
 
 Is one long fcene of eafe, as far from end 
 
 As is eternity : but if the foul 
 
 B(
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 55 
 
 Be of immortal eflencc, and partakes 
 
 Of the divinity, as reaibn's voice 
 
 Aloud proclaims ; then fhall we find that death 
 
 Is only a migration to the realms 
 
 Where God's enthron'd, ftill ready to receive 
 
 Departing fpirits when they are releas'd 
 
 From earthly cares : there Ihall I fbon retire 
 
 From this bad world ; and joyous converfe hold 
 
 With ancient fages who by virtue rais'd, 
 
 And deeds of proweis, have with merit won 
 
 The higheft honours in the court of fame. 
 
 [Exit SocR. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Sooner fhall ceafe the circling fun 
 
 His ftated annual courie to run : 
 
 Sooner the living lamps of light 
 
 Forget to gild the face of night : 
 
 Sooner the magnet ceafe to draw 
 
 The fteel, and err from nature's law : 
 
 Sooner the fire fhall turn to fiiovv, 
 
 And feas refufe to ebb and flow : 
 Than a firm mind to fenie of danger yield, 
 And to the fear of death refign the glorious field. 
 The man who conicious of his facred truft, 
 Is refolute and obftinately jufi: ; 
 
 Spurns the proud tyrant with dikiain, 
 
 Defies his frowns with mind ferencj 
 From reaibn's noble height looks down on earth. 
 And reverences God who gave to virtue biith : 
 
 Not
 
 5^ SOCRATES. 
 
 Not the drear wafte of frozen zone 
 
 Where cheerlefs winter plants her throne ; 
 
 Not the foul damp of gloomy cells, 
 
 Where the Cimmerian nation dwells ; 
 
 Not the rough whirlwind that deforms 
 
 The {eas and earth and heaven with ftorms ; 
 
 The firmnels of his loul can move ; 
 
 Not the red arm of angry Jove 
 That flings the forky thunder from the fky 
 And gives it rage to roar, and force of wing to fly. 
 Should the bright orbs of heaven difcordant jar, 
 And all the elements engage in war j 
 
 Should nature's frame around him fall 
 
 And form one rude chaotic ball ; 
 He would intrepid fee the ruins hurl'd, 
 And (land, unknown to fear, amidft a finking world. 
 
 ACT
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 57 
 
 A C T IV. S C E N E, the Prlfon. 
 Enter Socrates, with the G o a l e r. 
 
 Go AL E R. 
 
 MY mafters, fir, their ftri£l commands have given, 
 With heavy chains to load thy aged limbs. 
 Until that fatal haplefs day arrives 
 In which thy rigid lentence has thee doom'd 
 To drink the poifon'd cup — I muft obey — 
 Tho' to my Ibul repugnant is the deed — 
 
 Socrates. 
 Sir, do your duty — I can bear the chains 
 With cafe of mind, and hope to-morrow's fun 
 Will fet me free— That which is Socrates 
 Thou can'ft not bind. 
 
 [Exit Goale R. 
 Socrates {blus. 
 Ye darkfbme forefts ! whole embow'ring trees 
 No light pervades, whofe pathlefs underwoods 
 AfTume the horrors of the grave : ye rocks ! 
 On whofe rough bafe the baleful cyprefs grows, 
 And funeral yew ; where folitary birds 
 Attune their plaintive fbngs : ye ftreams, which flow, 
 Or fullen move along the reedy pool. 
 Or glide near moffy trunks of trees, and wind 
 In drear meanders thro' the barren plains 
 Of marHiy grounds — ye dilinal low-funk vales, 
 
 Beneath whofe dark collected iliade reclin'd 
 
 I Deep
 
 58 S O C R A T E S, 
 
 Deep horrors dwell, exhibit, pour forth all 
 Your (ad defpair-creating influence. 
 Your phantoms, ghaftly groupe of fears begot 
 By black diftempcr'd fumes on guilty minds 
 EngendVing woe, whofe duiky, gloomy robe 
 By crimes put on, diftrafted fancy wears; 
 Who fees, or thinks llie lees, on lliapes like yours 
 Her own detefted drap'ry dipt in night ; 
 To (buls like thefe, in fenfual ftyes immers'd, 
 Redouble all your horrors — to me, they 
 Nought adminiftcr but peace and joy; 
 Socrates Ihould find in earth's deep center 
 Expanded Ikies, and ftars, and fun-lhine round ; 
 There, virtue brighter than them all, will beam 
 On virtue, and his Ibul illumine through 
 Pleafing eternity, his lamp unquench'd. 
 O Thou, of time, of fpace, of worlds the caufe, 
 Immenfe, eternal, infinite ! with Thee 
 The world's duration is but as one day, 
 And all is gone ! a thoufand, thoufand funs 
 May have preceded that we now behold ; 
 And thoufands may fucceed with frefh fupplles 
 Of recent light : but as thofe inftruments 
 Which meafure time are mov'd by ftated laws, 
 And ibcial compa£l of affifting parts ; 
 So iiins to funs for ever tend, and ftars 
 To ftars incline in kindred orbs, that dance 
 In fweet vicinity their deftin'd rounds. 
 Obedient to thy dread command : the gems 
 That nightly glitter in the vault of heaven, 
 
 All
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 
 
 59 
 
 All vanilla at thy will, as the grais fades 
 
 Aduft and dry beneath the Icorchlng heat 
 
 Of fummer fun : the twinkling polar-ftars 
 
 Sparkle with brilliant luftre, but when near 
 
 Thy brighter beams intenfely hot, are burn'd 
 
 And wither'd up, a.s fades the blufhing role 
 
 Before the noon-tide ray, which Ihot dire£l 
 
 Contrads it's filken leaves. When nature young 
 
 Contended with the rude chaotic mafs, 
 
 Ere yet the world was fettled into form ; 
 
 Ere matter did, by Thee imprefs'd, receive 
 
 It's binding laws ; ere yet the fblar beam 
 
 Shot thro' the regions of primeval night 
 
 Almoft impenetrable ; Thou waft then 
 
 As far, great Deity fupreme ! remov'd 
 
 From any origin as now : and when 
 
 A fecond chaos Diall devour this world. 
 
 And of the imiverfal frame nothing butipace 
 
 And void remains ; when the new heavens Ihall fhine 
 
 With ftars thac differ from the lamps of light 
 
 We now^ behold, and all have run the round 
 
 Of their appointed periods : Thou, great God, 
 
 Shalt ever be the fame, unknown to wafte 
 
 Of lelf-exiftence ! the quick flight of tliought, 
 
 Compar'd to whofe fvvift wing, time, (bund, and light, 
 
 Iticlf is flow, loft in the endlefs fearch. 
 
 Can never reach thy height ; for thought foon fails 
 
 In the purfuit of that which knows no bounds. 
 
 Maker of all thino-s ! Thou art the brio-ht lua 
 
 Which, mealures the immenfity of time 
 
 1 2 Witb
 
 6o SOCRATES, 
 
 With even pace : Thou doft exlft with ftrength 
 
 Never to be impair'd : Thine is the hght 
 
 Of one perpetual, one meridian-day 
 
 Which ne'er can change ; but, as Hke leflfer funs 
 
 Which Ihew an orient dawn. Thou ne'er didft rife, 
 
 So wilt Thou never iet. Father of light ! 
 
 Give me to feel the influence of thy ray 
 
 Thro' all eternity ! Be thine, great God ! 
 
 To purify my foul from mortal ftain 
 
 Of vice deftru6live, and prepare my mind 
 
 For the fruition of eternal good. 
 
 Enter Ph^do, Cebes, and other friends. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Phaedo, thou'rt welcome— welcome all my friends ! 
 But why that melancholy gloom ? has aught 
 Unhing'd our country's peace ? or do ye grieve 
 For my departure to a place where joys 
 Shall ever reign ; and where, fb wills the God, 
 We (bon ihall meet again ? and thence look down 
 From skies ferene, on this tumultuous world, 
 That rolls like wind-fwoln (eas, which cannot reft. 
 
 Ph vE DO. 
 O Socrates ! thou worthieft of the Greeks, 
 Howe'er renown'd in the hiftoric page 
 For wifdom's lore ! thy friends have caufe to mourn 
 For thy departure from a world which wants 
 Thy aid the more, the more it is difturb'd 
 By vice and fa(Si:ion. Oft' haft thou alone 
 
 With
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 6i 
 
 With fteady mind, firm and Intrepid ftood 
 Againft a multitude, when t)Tants rul'd 
 With arbitrary iway, tore up the bounds 
 Of right and wrong, and with defpotic heel 
 On virtue trampled. 
 
 SOC RAT E S. 
 
 He who juftice deals. 
 With vengeance will repay the deeds of violence 
 Done here on earth. O ! let me moralize, 
 Whilft yet this vocal organ is in tune 
 To fpeak the (erious dictates of my foul. 
 Man is a compound being, partly made 
 Of fine material mould ; and partly form'd 
 Of intelle£lual powers, which animate 
 And move the frame, as force of will dire£ls, 
 Or reafbn rules ; two faculties, which flow 
 From the {ame (bul ; one in the queft of good, 
 And one of choice : and yet the will, milled 
 By fenfe and appetite which clofe adhere 
 To the material fyftem, oft' commands 
 What realbn oft' forbids : hence are two ways 
 Laid open to your choice ; here reafbn leads 
 Where virtue fits fublime, ready to point 
 To true beatitude ; there vagrant will 
 Draws you a mazy round in queft ot joys 
 Which fade away, and vanilh in the a£l: 
 Of firft fruition : if then death difTolves 
 The compound fyftem, if the thinking part 
 Shall difTipate in air, when the embrace 
 Of body's o'er ; vice would forget it's form, 
 
 And
 
 6z SOCRATES, 
 
 And vanin-i with the ibul, abforb'd and loft 
 In the wide womb of nothing : but, as foul, 
 That principle divine ; of earth-made man 
 The immaterial fpirlt, does partake 
 Of pure immortal elTence, and fubfifts 
 To all eternity ; it muft depend 
 On moral virtue, as the only ground 
 Of future happinefs : for, when the foul 
 Has from it's prifon 'fcaped, nothing remains 
 But vice or virtue, the determin'd feeds 
 Of happinefs or mifery, juft doom 
 Dcnounc'd by God's infallible decree 
 To voluntary agents, fitly form'd 
 To keep or violate their Maker's laws 
 As pafTions rule, or reafbn holds the reins ! 
 
 Ce b es. 
 If this be true, they who purfue a life 
 OF virtue here, muft, when they die, afcend 
 Empyreal heaven, there to enjoy a ftate 
 Unknown to change : but fome have warmly argued. 
 That when the body dies, the foul like air 
 Flies off unfeen and loft, infenfible 
 Of pain or pleafure, which can only cleave 
 To what is animate. 
 
 So c R AT E s. 
 Let us, my friend, 
 Deliberate on nature's laws, and fee 
 What things can fuffer change, and what endure 
 The leno-th of ages and the force of fate. 
 Know then that compounds, from whatever kuid 
 
 They
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 6^ 
 
 They draw their being, are by nature fit 
 For diflblution, ever in a flux, 
 And {bon furrender their fpecific forms 
 To be no more ; but what is fimple found 
 Which we call eflence, never luff^ers change 
 By time and place, but ftill remains the lame 
 Compleat and lelf-lubfifting thing, unknown 
 To alteration : things of the firft kind 
 Are open to the view, and lie expos'd 
 To every ienfe ; but eflence can be feen 
 Only by reafbn's eye, when the foul ibars 
 Beyond the verge of Ienfe, to take a view 
 Of the ideal world, and penetrate 
 The things that never vanifh, but from fight 
 Of mortal eye : hence then we may fuppofe 
 Two forts of beings ; vifible the one. 
 And one invifible ; this ftill the fame, 
 Whilfl that is ftill in change. 
 
 Ce b e s. 
 
 So far, my friend, 
 You reafbn right. 
 
 SoC R A T ES. 
 
 Is there aught elfe in man, 
 Save foul and body ? do not thefe compofe 
 The total fyflem ? can the foul be feen 
 By keeneft eye ? tho' body be difcern'd 
 In it's whole bulk ? fay, is not this the ftate 
 Of human frame ? is not the body then 
 Conform to things that fuffer change, and feel 
 A final diffolutlon, while the foul, 
 
 Purer
 
 64 SOCRATES, 
 
 Pure, immaterial, and from mixture free, 
 Eludes the ftroke, and flies the falling frame 
 That mingles with the mould, to which it ow'd 
 It's compound being ? 
 
 Ce B E S. 
 
 Now I take you right, 
 And yield a free aiTent : the one refigns 
 What plaftic nature gave it, and dilTolves 
 Into it's principles ; the other holds 
 It's felf-fubfifting form, devoid of parts 
 That fuffer change. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Then were the foul enflav'd 
 To the corporeal lenfes, when employ'd 
 In elevated thoughts ; would it not turn 
 From the pure view of truth, and mix with things 
 Unftable known, as veering as the wind 
 That knows no fettled point ? but when the foul 
 Looks inward on itlclF, and views the train 
 Of fair ideas, which the intelle£l; 
 Digefts in method right, and makes them fit 
 For reafbn's uie, it turns to what is pure 
 And lempiternal found, unknown to change 
 Of form or order, and to which it bears 
 A near relation : there the thinking foul 
 Allured by kindred ties, as thought and truth 
 Are daughters of the Deity, oft' feafls 
 On Intel le£iual fweets from the ^rofs fcnfe 
 Of body free, and therefore far removed 
 From error's darkling Ihade, which like a cloud 
 
 O'ercads
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 65 
 
 O'ercafts the beam of reafbn, and obftru^ls 
 The Iplcndid flow of light which ever ftreams 
 From heavenly wiidom ; don't you therefore find 
 The aftive foul, when from communion free 
 With the corporeal fenfes, firm adheres 
 To what is fimply beft ? 
 
 Cebes. 
 It muft be fb ; 
 In flich a fituation it conforms 
 To what is fimple, right, unchangeable, 
 And felf-fubfifting ; but the body bears 
 Similitude to what is ftill in flux, 
 As obJe£ls vary, and the fenles lead 
 To what right realbn never would aflent. 
 
 Socrates. 
 But as the fyftem of the human frame 
 Is Co contriv'd, that Ibul and body hold 
 A mutual commerce while they live on earth 
 In Ibcial union ; does not nature teach 
 That the corporeal part, which owes it's mafs 
 To inert matter, fhould (ubmit to laws. 
 And move as reaibn guides ? and, that the foul. 
 Of origin divine, fhould flill exert 
 It's juft dominion ? 
 
 Ceb e s. 
 
 Doubtlefs, it fhould claim 
 Superior rule ; and therefore they who judge 
 With true and philofophic minds, fhould fly 
 From the grofs body, and purfiie the train 
 Of pure ideas opening to the view 
 
 K Of
 
 66 SOCRATES, 
 
 Of rcafon's eye, when left ferenely bright, 
 To take a profpect of the pleafing fcenc. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Cebes, you argue right — the foul difturb'd 
 By fonfe and pafFion, which inherent cleave 
 To the corporeal frame, does often drop 
 A lucid thought, and vifionary catch 
 Shade unfubitantial. Let us now review 
 The ftcps w^e have purfued, and we Ihall lee 
 To what fixt point our former reas'ning clue 
 Condu^ls our fearch— The foul, confider'd right 
 In fonfo abftrafted, fhews itfelf divine. 
 Intelligent, fclf-moving, free from parts 
 And dilTolution, immaterial, free. 
 And void of paiTions, fimplc, folf-focurc 
 From what might check the intelleftual powers 
 From clofe purfuit of truth : the other part 
 Of the compounded fyftem, is a mafs 
 Of breathing matter, multiform, depriv'd 
 Of all intelligence, by nature fram'd 
 For diffolution, ever in a flux. 
 Uncertain as the breeze that fans the air, 
 Subje£l to weaknefs and difeafo, th' efFe£l 
 Of jarring atoms : here, now there inclin'd, 
 As paiTions force, or varied obje£ls move. 
 Do not thefe complicated things confift 
 With the eternal laws, by which the God 
 Who made the foul and body, wifely rules 
 As well the moral as material world ? 
 
 Cebes.
 
 A Dramatic POEM. <^7 
 
 Ce B E S. . 
 
 It muft be Co : for the true moral world 
 
 Is of quite different Ibrt from what we call 
 
 The natural ; to one, the thinking foul 
 
 Is near allied, and therefore fhould be rul'd 
 
 By moral laws, adapted and apply'd 
 
 To beings, charg'd with intelle<Sl:, and will 
 
 To judge and chule : but body Is a part 
 
 Of the liiilerlal world, and muft obey 
 
 The lav/s of dlflolutlon, when the foul 
 
 Springs forth to moral joy — Say, my good friend, 
 
 Do I purfue the line of your dilcourfe ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 You take me right — when then a man refigns 
 His living breath, nothing Is vlfible 
 But the corporeal part, to which the foul 
 Gave fenfe and motion ; and when vital fprlngs 
 No longer operate, nothing can remain 
 But lifelefs matter, obvious to the fenfe 
 Of fight and touch, which fbon, if not embalm'd, 
 Muft melt away, and mingle with the mould 
 Which gave it being : but the foul, fecure 
 From force of fate, foars to a place unleen 
 By mortal eye, and when it has fhook off 
 The fluggiih load, with which it commerce held, 
 Small and Infrequent as the cogent laws 
 Of vital union claim, but firmly ftood 
 Colledcd in Itfelf ; as far remov'd 
 As pofTible from fenfe, Intcnfely bent 
 On fpeculations high, which fill the mind 
 
 K 2 V>-lth
 
 6S SOCRATES, 
 
 With icntlments rublimc— the happy fruit 
 
 Of true philofophy— does not a foul 
 
 For heaven thus calculated, claim a right 
 
 To what it is moll like, the living God, 
 
 Immortal, and fupreme, from whom it drew ' 
 
 It's wond'rous cffence ? thither when the foul 
 
 Releas'd from fenfe and appetites, w hich cleave 
 
 To the material fyftem, wings it's way 
 
 By native impulic rais'd, it lives like gods 
 
 In calm repofe, where truth in iplendor gay 
 
 Shines forth with beams divine, and fills the foul 
 
 With Intelle£lual joy ; no darkling fhade 
 
 To interrupt the view, but things are fcen 
 
 Confpicuous as the light : for there the God 
 
 Whoie emanations fill the unlverfe. 
 
 Is all in all, who ever was, and is. 
 
 And fiiall for ever be the fame, incapable 
 
 Of alteration. 
 
 C E B E S . 
 
 Doubtlefs what is pure 
 Should mix with pure, and both confed'rate join. 
 Like light and heat, w^hleh iflue from the fame 
 Unvaried fburce. 
 
 Socrates. 
 But when a foul unpurg'd 
 Of earthly vice, refigns the wretched frame. 
 To which it clofe adher'd with fond embrace 
 As thither lur'd by magic fpell, to feafl 
 On fenfual joys, to which it was fo prone 
 That nought feem'd good, or true, but what arofe 
 
 From
 
 A Dramatic P O E M. 69 
 
 From fbme corporeal ienfe ; fomethlng which pleas'd 
 
 Or fight, or tafte, or touch, organs prepar'd 
 
 By the wife Maker, only to fupply 
 
 The wants of nature, while the complex ftate 
 
 It's union holds ; nor could be brought to think 
 
 That aught invifible to human eye 
 
 Has real being, tho' the intellecSl 
 
 When undifturb'd by fenle, can clearly view 
 
 The moral world, and lee the form of things 
 
 In fimple eifence : fay, can fiich a Ibul 
 
 Be fraught with innocence, and tafte the fweets 
 
 Of intellectual joy, fo long inur'd 
 
 To fenflial pleailire? 
 
 Ce BES. 
 
 Queftionlefs, a foul 
 Which with the body a fond commerce holds,, 
 Imbibes corporeal ftain, and lies immers'd 
 In the foul dregs of matter, a vile flave 
 To brutiili appetites, to which it yields 
 The Icepter of it's power, and clings to Ienfe, 
 As if congenite with material mould ; 
 So deep the taint has funk into the foul ! 
 
 Ph^ D O. 
 
 As human fouls thus differ in the choice 
 
 Of vice or virtue, yet purfue their ends 
 
 By fteps unequal ; does no middle ftate 
 
 Lie betwixt happineis, and pains, that fj-iring 
 
 From vice as from their feeds ? do all who tread 
 
 The different ways that lead where happinels 
 
 Or mifery is found, partake alike 
 
 Of
 
 70 SOCRTAES, 
 
 Of pain or pleafure? for, tho' virtue wear 
 Appearance different from that of vice. 
 Yet each has features more or lels conform 
 To the true Hnes of good and evil, drawn 
 By reafbn's pencil, dipt in colours ftrong 
 That fhew a heaven or depaint a hell. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Thither I meant, my friends, to lead the thread 
 Of my dilcourie, while yet my fault'ring tongue 
 Performs it's office, deftln'd by the God 
 Who fram'd the organ, to declare his works 
 And fpeak his praiie. Learn then, to know the laws 
 Of will divine. Pure moral re£litude 
 Is of the eflence of the Deity, 
 And cannot vary from the laws that rule 
 Eternal juftice, which in a fblemn place 
 Of final doom, where human ibuls convene, 
 Led by their daemons, fhall the fates of men 
 Aweful pronounce, and to each foul aflign 
 A proper region {uited to the kind 
 Of it's pafl: life, fmce it deicended-firft 
 From pre-exiftcnt ftate to animate 
 An earthly fubftance, by the God inlpir'd 
 With will and reaibn; reafon to dire^l. 
 And will to chule; with fenfc and appetites, 
 Which, as employ'd, may either prove the guards 
 Or bane of virtue. They who lead a life, 
 Nor always prone to vice, nor full intent 
 On virtue's charms, muft in a certain place 
 Suffer due pains, proportion'd to their crimes, 
 
 In
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 71 
 
 In meafure juft, 'till being cleans'd of guilt 
 
 Which {oil'd their ibuls, they meet with a reward 
 
 That's juftly adequate to moral good 
 
 Performed here, from future dread of torture 
 
 Ever free : whilft they who've amafs'd a load 
 
 Of crimes enormous, and atrocious deeds 
 
 Of direful nature, which even mercy's hand 
 
 Cannot obliterate, are downward hurl'd 
 
 To loweft Tartarus, and there confign'd 
 
 To ever-during chains — the fit reward 
 
 Of foul demeanour. They indeed who led 
 
 By a mifguided will, the menial flave 
 
 To fenfe and pafTion, have committed fins 
 
 Of a deep dye, but fuch as penitence » 
 
 May purge away ; fliall for a ftated time 
 
 Suffer due penance, 'till by humble fuit, 
 
 Join'd to the workings of a contrite foul, 
 
 They merit pardon, from the living God 
 
 Freely obtain'd ; — lb cloie does mercy cleave 
 
 To juft Ice infinite — the attributes 
 
 Of Him w4io rules fupreme — But, O my friends ! 
 
 Know for your comfort, here while ye remain, 
 
 And in this painful pilgrimage have led 
 
 A life of innocence, by reafon train'd 
 
 To purity of will, and free from ftain 
 
 Of moral turpitude, which warps the mind 
 
 To tafte for fenfual joys ; fuch guiltlefs fouls. 
 
 From the dead weight of earthly chains releas'd 
 
 As from a prifbn, are recelv'd on high 
 
 In bllfsful regions, where inceflant ftreams 
 
 Empyreal
 
 72 SOCRATES, 
 
 Empyreal light from his ccleftial throne 
 Who reigns above, and pours forth all the rays 
 Of goodncfs beyond thought, much left can words 
 Expreis ideas, too inlarg'd to lie 
 
 Within the compafs of created fouls. [Exeunt. 
 
 SocRATE s retires. 
 Chorus. 
 The Moral OEconomy. 
 As in the fyftem of the world we find 
 Parts of a lower and a higher kind ; 
 And each as in due order plac'd, 
 Is with peculiar beauty grac'd : 
 So docs the foul fupcrior claim 
 A right to rule the human frame, 
 Whilft lower powers in obfequious train 
 Exert their menial aid, and reafon's laws maintain : 
 
 For padlons, in a truly moral ftate 
 On will, by reafon guided, ever waitj 
 
 Serve lawlefs motions to controul, 
 
 And are the guardians of the foul, 
 
 Which by their aid, with bold eflay 
 
 To heights of virtue ipeeds her way; 
 From fordid earth uprais'd with effort flies. 
 And claims a moral kindred to her native skies. 
 
 How delicately made is nature's chain, 
 
 Vv'here all things mutual lend, and mutual gain ; 
 
 The will a middle ftate maintains; 
 
 Here reafon rules, there paflion reigns 
 
 To
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 73 
 
 To execute the will's commands, 
 While at the helm lage reafon ftands 
 To fee that all things thither fairly tend, 
 Where God diredls the way, and nature points the end. 
 
 Will then and reafon are in kind the fame, 
 And ftand diflinguifh'd only in the name ; 
 
 For choice, where reafon fails, is blind, 
 
 But, with it, of the moral kind ; 
 
 For then both will and reafon draw 1 
 
 Eternal truths from nature's law ; 
 While moving pallions are the a6live fprings 
 Which give the foul to rife on reafbn's fbaring wings. 
 
 ACT
 
 74 SOCRATES, 
 
 ACT V. S C E N E I. 
 
 Socrates fblus. 
 MAY a friendly gale at heav'n's command 
 Soon hither waft the deftin'd flilp that bears 
 
 The flgnal for my death ! how {lowly feem 
 
 The hours to glide, which carry on their wings 
 
 Our fondeft hopes ! my mind is full prepar'd 
 
 For fpeedy death. 
 
 Enter C R i t o and other friends. 
 
 SOC RATES. 
 
 Welcome, my friends ! fit down 
 As feems ye beft — the hurricane has ceas'd, 
 And all is calm — this is the happy day 
 Which gives me notice of my change ; let joy 
 Serene appear in ev'ry {iniling face. 
 And bid it welcome : what the prefident 
 
 » 
 
 * Socrates happened to be condemned the very day the priefl: of Apollo 
 crowned the poop of the facred iliip which failed with an offering into the 
 illand of Delos. 
 
 The reader muft obferve, that this fhip went annually in commemoration of 
 the mighty deliverance of Theleus in Crete, and in confequence of his vow. 
 It was a rule of their religion, never to be broken through, that from the time 
 of the departure of this ihip from tlie port of Athens to the time of it'S' comr- 
 ing back, no malefactors were ever put to death : this fometimes, by means 
 ot contrary winds, occalioned the intervention of a confiderable fpace, as hap- 
 pened in the cafe of Socrates, who was in prifon thirty days before his death,, 
 during which time His difciples attended him with uncommon affiduity. 
 
 Plato in Phsed. — Plut. de invidia et odio. 
 
 Whilom
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 75 
 
 Whilom denounc'd, fhot like a ray of light 
 
 Darted from heaven, and gave my foul to feel 
 
 Joys which I can't exprefs — What ! does pale grief 
 
 Sit furrow'd on your brows, as if chill fear 
 
 Thrill'd thro' the veins ? does this, my friends, befccm 
 
 A feftal day ? a day, which fair fhall fhine 
 
 In future fame ? are ye aghaft to find 
 
 Your friend fhall fbon be happy, and refumc 
 
 His priftine ftate ? for fhame, my brethren ! 
 
 Let nobler thoughts Infpire your heav'n-born iouls, 
 
 And give them ientiments which fuit the port 
 
 Of immaterial beings made to live 
 
 A fhort time here — Father of gods and men ! 
 
 Be thine the pious care to raife my loul 
 
 Above the fear of death, which can deftroy 
 
 That part alone, which plaftic nature form'd 
 
 Under the conduct of thy guiding hand, 
 
 Cr it o. 
 O Socrates ! can we unmov'd behold 
 That venerable body gall'd with chains 
 Which none but knaves fhould bind ? thy hoary head 
 Doom'd to a prlibn, where the genial ray 
 Abhors to enter ? and thy fbns expos' d 
 To the bare world ? or deftin'd to depend 
 On the kind friendly hand, which takes delight 
 In doing good ? have we not realon then 
 To mourn the lofs of thee who ftood unmov'd 
 In virtue's caufe ? — but means for thy efcapc 
 May yet be found.— 
 
 L 2 Socrates.
 
 7^ SOCRATES, 
 
 SOCR AT E S. 
 
 Unlcfs I violate 
 The civil laws, and fly from what they deem 
 An a£l of juftice, I muft here refign 
 This aged body to the punifhnient 
 My judges doom'd j but the etherial part 
 Of elTcnce pure, that principle divine 
 Which conftitutes the man, can never feel ' 
 
 The fatal blow : for, when this body blends 
 With parent earth, the foul fublime iliall foar 
 Thro' fields of ether bright, to meet the God 
 Who gave it being, and ihall make it lliine 
 Thro' all eternity in realms of light. 
 Thanks to the judges ! tho' without defign, 
 They have confign'd me to a life of joy ; 
 Which flows unfailing from a fburce divine. 
 Sole fountain pure of pleafure and delight ! 
 
 C R I T o. 
 Had'ft thou, O Socrates, in humble fuit 
 Addreis'd the judges, and choie aught, befide 
 The Pr^'tanaeum, for thy puniihment ; 
 They never would have ientenc'd thee to death : 
 But to demand reward, (tho' it became 
 The merit of thy cauie) fl:unn'd like a clap 
 Of unexpefted thunder, w hen the iky 
 Is free from clouds. 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Had I, in humble guiic, 
 W^ith abjeft mind, and fupplication mean, 
 Implor'd their mercy ; thus perhaps I might 
 
 Have
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 77 
 
 Have fav'd a life, but at the dear cxpence 
 Of all that honour, which a man long traln'd 
 In philofophic lore, might juftly claim 
 From a free people. On this principle 
 Firm I rely, that nothing befide guilt 
 Can be an evil, and do therefore chufe 
 Rather to be depriv'd of lome few years 
 I might have liv'd, than in an inftant lofe,. 
 By grov'ling means, the glory I had gain'd 
 In my paft life : and as the prelent age 
 Seems not to know my worth, I hence appeal 
 To late pofterity, affur'd to meet 
 With more regard in all fuceeeding times. 
 When prejudice and envy die away. 
 
 Cr I T o. 
 Good night, my friend — fbme bufineis calls me forth 
 Ere yet I go to reft ; to-morrow's dawn 
 Shall bring me hither, when I hope to find 
 Thy ear difpos'd to liften to advice. FExic^ 
 
 So CRATES. 
 
 Now, I am quite at cafe — Crito no more 
 Will think of my elcape — how fbme men judge 
 Of what is right or wrong ! To leave this place 
 Without an order from the civil powers, 
 Is to rebel againft the laws that rule 
 This honour'd ftate, which could not long fubfift,. 
 Did ev'ry member claim a right to void 
 It's firm decrees— But nov/ the car of night 
 Rolls in deep Ihade, and warns me to addrefs 
 My wonted vefpers to the God whq rules 
 
 The
 
 78 SOCRATES. 
 
 The fweet vicilTitude of night and day- 
 Hail, univerlal Lord ! at whofe command 
 The fun withdraws his ray, and darkhng dips 
 To nether world ! anon, the ftarry train 
 Of heav'n fucceeds, nor varies from the courfe 
 By thee ordain'd : thine is the dewy fliade 
 Which veils the night, and thine the pearly drops 
 That drefs the morn ! all nature is at once 
 Thy care and offspring ! be it thine to guard 
 The firmneis of my foul, and keep it free 
 From foul tranigrelFion and corporeal ftain ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Thy praife, O Socrates, the moral bards, 
 
 High in fame for facred iong, 
 
 To future ages lliall tranfmit, 
 
 As time's current rolls al®ng. 
 
 Future ages free from envy 
 
 Shall thy leading fteps purfue ; 
 
 Shall attend to reafon's lore, 
 And hold thy virtue in diftinguilli'd view. 
 
 To thee, Minerva's fhrinc fhall honour pay ; 
 To thcc, Apollo tune his lyre : 
 From thcc (hall future iages feel 
 The facred warmth of heav'nly fire. 
 By thcc the patriot train'd to laws 
 Which ought to rule a civil flate, 
 Shall find his fchemes fucccfsful prove, 
 
 And by his virtues make his country great. 
 
 Fir'd
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 79 
 
 Fir'd by thy courage, (hall the warrior pour 
 His banner'd legions o'er the plain ; 
 Fixt as the laws of fate to fali 
 With honour, or a conqueft gain : 
 Virtue when harrafs'd with diftrels 
 From thee fhall confblation find; 
 Look with difdain on things below. 
 And give the Ibul a tafte for pleafures more refin'd. 
 
 SCENE IL 
 
 Etherial Spirits defeend and fmg while Socrates deeps. 
 
 Eale, delight of human kind I 
 Soft enchantrefs of the mind ! 
 Sweet the warbling wood-lark's fong, 
 When he chaunts the trees among 1 
 But without thee his fvveetefl drain 
 Inftead of pleafure gives a pain. 
 Sweet is the dewy-fpangled mead, 
 The level lawn or winding glade ! 
 Sweet is the cadence of the limpid rill 
 When gently trickling dow^n the frnooth reclining hill 1 
 
 But nor rill nor lawn can pleafe 
 When the mind is not at eale. 
 Eaie, thou happy gift of heaven, 
 By the gods to mortals given ! 
 Thou, to fair virtue near ally'd, 
 Art ever by her facred fide 1 
 
 Whethei
 
 8o SOCRATES, 
 
 Whether fhe chuie the rugged way, 
 Or thro' the mofs-grown valley ftray ; 
 You, fboth'd with raptur'd fancy, walk along, 
 And lend attentive ear to her celeftial fong. 
 
 Eale the lyric bard infpires, 
 Warms his brcaft with heavenly fires ; 
 Bids him {well a fuller key. 
 Or a lofter found convey. 
 'Tis eaie alone gives peaceful reft 
 To the pure virtue-breathing breaft ; 
 'Tis ea(e that calms the ruffled foul, 
 'Tis eafe can paflion's force controul : 
 Virtue and eafe for ever fbcial join ; 
 Both of congenial form, and both of birth divine ! 
 
 See the fbftly-fleeping fage, 
 
 Silvcr'd o'er with hoary age ! 
 
 See his vifage calm and clear. 
 
 Such as finiling infants wear, 
 
 When at fome pleafing glittering toy. 
 
 Their little hearts exult with joy. 
 
 Happieft of mortals ! ibon Ihall we 
 
 Thy unembodied Ipirit fcQ ; 
 When in high heaven it tunes the golden lyre. 
 And joins in fymphony with the celeftial choir. 
 
 [On Grit o's coming in, S o c r a t e s awakes. 
 Socrates. 
 Thy villtation, Crito, feems to bear 
 So'me hafty mcllai^c, lay, how v/ears the time ? 
 Is it yet day ? Crito,
 
 A Dramatic POEM. Sr 
 
 Cr I TO. 
 
 The firft frefli dawn of llo:ht 
 Opens the morn, and bids Aurora rlie 
 To wake the lun. J u ft as I enter'd here 
 Methought I heard a ioftly, warbhng voice, 
 That tun'd melodious numbers ; near at firft 
 It feem'd, then by flow fmking dy'd away 
 In diftant founds. 
 
 Socrates. 
 O Crito ! (lich a night 
 I never fpent 'till now : in eafy flo^v 
 The circling blood held on a gentle courfe 
 Thro' all my veins : my head forene and clear 
 As the ftill air, when foarce a breeze is found 
 To wave it's wings : the ipirits which exhale 
 From the pure purple flood, in wanton play 
 Danc'd round my heart ; and the reipiring lungs 
 Breath'd with uncommon eaie : methouo-ht I heard 
 Voices that tun'd harmonious airs, more foft 
 Than Orpheus' fong, which made the lavage race 
 Forget their rage. Praifo to the God iupreme 
 Who reigns above, ftill prefent to our wants 
 Whether we wake or fleep ! for, what you've heard. 
 Was doubdefs font by him, to cheat my foul 
 With miniftrelfy divine. But, Crito, fay, 
 WThat fo foon brought thee to the difmal goal 
 Of thy old friend ? is the fhip yet arriv'd 
 Which lail'd to Dclos, and at whofo return 
 I leave this world to haftcn to the hoft 
 Of heav'n's inhabitants, and tafte the f\veets 
 
 M Of
 
 82 SOCRATES, 
 
 Of lo\'e and joy, which the Ibul cannot feel 
 While here embodied? 
 
 Cr I TO. 
 There is fure advice 
 From Sunium brought, that with to-morrow's fun 
 The fatal vedel comes— therefore in hafte 
 I hither fped to tell thee, that the doors 
 Are open to thy flight, the goaler gain'd, 
 And all things ready for a fure eicape 
 From ruthful prifon, and the dread of death. 
 Hafte, and let us leave ungrateful Athens, 
 Ere the dim morning brighten into day. 
 
 So CRATES. 
 
 Is there a place beyond the bounds which hold 
 This Attica, where death has no accefs 
 To mortal man ? had I not better here 
 Refign my life ? here, where the ftate decreed 
 That 1 iliould end my days ? does it confift 
 With honour's laws, that like a miicreant 
 Touch'd with the fenfe of guilt, I thus lliould fly 
 Thro' fear of death ? fuch pra(Sl:ice ill becomes 
 The principles I taught. 
 
 C R I T o. 
 
 Perhaps you think 
 That your efcape would hurt your friends who hold 
 Your doom unjuft ; perchance expoie their lives 
 To civil rage— but, what can be more dear 
 To an ingenuous mind, than to preferve 
 The life of Socrates, on which depends 
 The good of thoufands ? even Grangers come 
 
 From
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 83 
 
 From diftant parts to purchaie thy releafe 
 
 On laviih terms, with promi(e to {iipply 
 
 Thy future wants, and make thee finilli life 
 
 In peaceful eale : or, fhould'ft thou think that (cheme 
 
 Too infecure ; I have in ThefTaly 
 
 A fweet retreat, where you may freely live 
 
 Remote from danger, and in (afe repole 
 
 Plant m your children's minds the living feeds 
 
 Of facrcd truth : there may Xantippc clofe 
 
 Thy beamlefs eyes, when nature flops the fprings 
 
 Of borrow'd motion, and thy ibul takes flight 
 
 On upward pinions to the throne of heaven. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Had I, thro' curiofity, been led 
 To fee this feat of fcience, unattach'd 
 To the Athenian laws, and here arraign'd 
 For crimes I know not, I fhould think my life 
 Might be preferv'd by miniflerial means 
 Of any kind, which would not lay the rules 
 Of moral virtue wafle : but, as I here 
 Was ufher'd into life, and deeply drank 
 Of the foul-chearing ftream which limpid flows- 
 From fcientific fpring; as here I fpent 
 My riper years, obedient to the laws 
 Of the Athenian flate, which fpread it's wings 
 To guard my civil rights; as more than once 
 With due fblemnity I pledg'd my faith, to hold 
 The law^s of juftice facrcd, and renounce 
 All private views : how can I now unhinge 
 Such ftrong engagem.ents, made by free confent, 
 And voluntary choice ? Grit O:.
 
 S4 SOCRATES, 
 
 Cr I TO. 
 
 O Socrates ! 
 Thy country has condemn'd thcc to a death 
 That wears the cloud of guilt, which to thy Ibul 
 Was ever odious known— Can Juftice here 
 Plead in her favour ? can Ihe hold the Icales 
 Of right and wrong with an unequal hand, 
 And weigh the fates of men, as will inclines 
 To fave or to deftroy ? Can fhe abfolvc 
 The hand profane for ihedding guiltlefs blood, 
 Which cries aloud for vengance from the gods 
 On a curs'd nation ? 
 
 Socrates. 
 Crito, too much zeal 
 In fricndlTiip's caufc, has made you pafs the bounds 
 Of virtue's law, which bid you not return 
 Evil for evil ; nor requite offence 
 By the like ufage ; nor repair a wrong 
 By foul mii^eeds. Should he who gave thy frame 
 It's vital feeds, or ihe who with fond care 
 Nurtur'd thy helplels youth, and train'd thy tongue 
 To liiping prattle, Ihould they dilcourteous prove 
 And treat thee hardly, would'fl: thou therefore drop 
 Filial obeyiance, and forget the ion 
 To be reveng'd on thoie who gave thee birth ? 
 And know'ft thou not, thy country claims a right 
 To more regard than they from whom you drew 
 The crimibn blood which circles in your veins ? 
 You know, my Crito, I have ever taught, 
 That ads of juftice in a civil ftate 
 
 Are
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 85 
 
 Are It's defence and bulwark, the firm bafe 
 
 On which it ftands : fay then, I am to die 
 
 In virtue's caufe, and fall a facrifice 
 
 To warmth of rage ; do they who take my life, 
 
 Suffer, or I ? The fpotlefs foul fecure 
 
 From fhock of death, fmiles at the pointed dart. 
 
 And bids it fl:rike~-Let then Melitus fear. 
 
 And they who judg'd me— there grim horror claims 
 
 A right to rage : O may they find a way 
 
 To make their peace with God : I here refign 
 
 My fentenc'd life a vl6llm to his will. 
 
 Cr I T o. 
 I wifh my care had met with more regard. 
 
 [Exit Crito. And Socrates retires. 
 
 Cho r us. 
 Death, when view'd by guilty eyes, 
 
 Mufl in dreadful form appear ; 
 But to the good and virtuous mind 
 
 Death can nought but pleafure wear : 
 
 There the foul In feparate life 
 
 When divorc'd from w^edded clay. 
 Has nothing to employ it's thoughts, 
 
 But dreary manfions void of day : 
 
 Here the foul from earth efcap'd 
 
 Ranges thro' joyous realms of light ; 
 With vvonder views the rolling orbs, 
 
 All heaven unfolding to it's fight : 
 
 There
 
 8(5 SOCRATES, 
 
 There flialt thou quickly wear the crown. 
 
 Where virtue's gems for ever glow, 
 Excurfive fbar, and thence look down 
 
 With pity on the world below. 
 
 SCENE 111. 
 
 Socrates Iblus. 
 Now all within is calm— when this bright (uny 
 Shall dip in weftern wave it's glowing wheels, 
 From earth Ihall Socrates with joy alcend 
 Into the regions of eternal light 
 Where God prefides, the origin and end 
 Of heav'n-born fouls ! there I ihall joyous meet 
 With * Palamedes, upright man, betray'd By 
 
 * Palamedes the fbn of Nauplius king of Eubcea, when the Grecian 
 kings were to go to the war of Troy. UlylTes (fon of Laertes) to fave himfelf 
 ;it home, feigned himfelf mad. Palamedes found out the counterfeit, by lay- 
 ing his fon in the furrow, as he was ploughing, and fowing fait — he ftopt the 
 plough, and faved the boy, v^hercupon his counterfeiting was difcovered, and he. 
 was taken to the war againfl jiis will, and being fent into Thrace to forage 
 for corn, he returned, and faid he could find none — Palamedes went himfelf, 
 and returned with large quantities from thence. Ulyfles, to revenge thcfe things, 
 counterfeited a letter in Priamus's name, wherein he thanked Palamedes for 
 his intended trcafon, and mentioned that he had fent him gold for a reward : 
 now Ulyfles had fecretly conveyed gold into his tent : thefe letters were 
 found and read in the camp. Palamedes was called j Ulyfies feemed to 
 defend him, and faid no trull was to be given to the letters of enemies ; 
 but, faid he, let fome men be fent into Palamedes's tent, and then if there be 
 found any fum of gold, that he was furely guilty — They fent and found the 
 gold, and Palamedes was condemned and ll:oned — His death was afterwards 
 revenged by Nauplius, In the time of the Trojan war he invented four Greek 
 letters >, |, y, (p, adding them to the fixteen which had been before invented 
 by Cadmus. He was fl-.ilful in aftrolcgy, and the firft who found out the 
 caufe of eclipfes, and brought the year to the courfe of the fun, and the 
 
 month
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 87 
 
 By old Laertes' Ion : there f i^acus, 
 
 And X Rhadamanthus and Trlptolemus, 
 
 Renown'd of old, heroes and demigods, 
 
 Sanftltles of heav'n, that kept their (buls 
 
 Unftaln'd by vice, and all who held in view 
 
 The public good, his pralfe fhall celebrate 
 
 In chaunt fymphonlous, whofe ere£llve hand 
 
 Made heav'n and earth, and the ftupendous whole 
 
 In all it's vaft variety of change 
 
 In ftated order rules : there * Linus, born 
 
 Of fair Terpfichore, and who firft taught 
 
 Threician Orpheus to high-ftring his lyre 
 
 To artful melody ; there he who fung 
 
 The race of gods, and taught the rural plains 
 
 To yield their fruits ; there blind Maeonldes, 
 
 So fani'd for epic fbng, and all the bards Who 
 
 month to the courfe of the moon — He invented feveral methods of ordering 
 an army, and the giving the watch word, which, together with thofe letters^ 
 tliey faid, he learned by the condud: and flying of cranes — whence by the 
 poets they are called Palamedis aves — the birds of Palamedes. IVIart. 
 
 •f- ^acus was the fon of Jupiter by JEgin^i ; he and Rhadamanthus were 
 only inferior judges, the firft of whom examined the Europeans, the latter 
 the Afiatics, and bore only plain rods as a mark of their office ; but all diffi- 
 cult cafes were referred to Minos, who fat over them with a fcepter of gold — 
 Their court was held in a large meadow called the field of truth. Plato and 
 Tully add Triptolemus to thele as a fourth judge — he was fon of Celeus of 
 Athens ; Ceres lent him her chariot, and fent him through the \\orld to inllrudl 
 mankind in the benefits of tillage. 
 
 :]: Rhadamanthus was fon of Jupiter and Europa, a great legiflator, and 
 brother to Minos — who having killed his brother, fled to /Echalia in Baeotia, 
 where he married Alcmena, the widow of Amphytrion : his province in tlie 
 infernal regions was to judge fuch as died impenitent. 
 
 * Linus v/as fon of Apollo, whom he had by the nymph Terpfichore ; he 
 was born at Thebes, and eminent for learnino- — he wrote on the origin of the 
 world, the courfes of the fun and moon, and the produdlion of aninaals — 
 but of thefe not the leaft fragments rem.ain.
 
 88 SOCRATES, 
 
 Who fung of virtue, in full concert joln'd 
 
 Shall ftrike the filver cymbals tun'd to notes 
 
 Of harmony divine, and heav'n's bright court 
 
 Shall ring with joy : fiich is the fymphony 
 
 Of fouls above— But ! Crito comes 
 
 Who zzoiild a6l right, but oft miftakes the means. 
 
 Enter Crito, and feveral friends. 
 
 Cr ito. 
 
 Socrates ! thy faithful friends in crowds 
 Do hither flock, and prels to know thy will 
 Concerning thy affairs, that they may learn 
 What beft befits thy family, and fuits 
 
 Thy tender offspring. 
 
 S OC R AT E S. 
 
 I have nothing new 
 To leave in charge — purfue the moral fchemes^ 
 
 1 always taught ; if ye negle£l yourfelves 
 You will not think of me, nor of the friends 
 I leave behind me ; flill let your faithful 
 Memories be ftor'd with all thofe lectures, 
 
 All thofe moral rules, which for your guidance 
 Chiefly I have plan'd ; with unabated vigour. 
 Truth's facred fteps purlue, where'er flie leads 
 Her fafe-direfting way ; altho' th' event 
 May uniliccefsful prove ; let juftice rule 
 In all your actions : be the republic 
 Your guardian care j let love and friendiliip's bonds 
 Unite you all, and let no wild mifrule 
 
 I Bear
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 89 
 
 Bear down viitue, for without virtue's aid, 
 No ftate can long fubfift : Xantippe's friend?, 
 With her own induftry and care, will feed 
 The wants of nature ; very fmall fupplies 
 Are found (ufficientj what is more, muft tend 
 To Hothful luxury. Give it in charge 
 To my dear children, to puriije the Itcps 
 Their father trod ; and train their youthtiil minds 
 To fentiments of truth, as ye would low 
 Seed in a field, ere multitude of weeds 
 Renders it wafte : and fhould they fall like me 
 In virtue's cauie, we ibon fhall meet above. 
 Where God's unerring juftice holds the (cales. 
 By which the merit of the caufe is weigh'd— 
 This counlcl I bequeath — be it your care 
 To lee the purport of my will obey'd. 
 
 C R I T o. 
 But lay, my friend, how would you be interr'd, 
 When death lliall lay that honour'd body low ? 
 
 SoC R AT E s. 
 
 JufI: as you pleaie, do with it as you v/ill— 
 
 Corruption claims that part of Socrates, 
 
 This carcaie is it's prey — but t'other part 
 
 Came down from heav'n, and thither ihall return 
 
 To live with fpirits of congenial form — 
 
 O ! be it then your care to keep your fouls 
 
 Immaculate and pure, an offering meet 
 
 For Him who form'd them, when his wiiciom deigns 
 
 T o fummon them to render an account 
 
 N Of
 
 90 SOCRATES, 
 
 Of what thcv did on earth while here confin'd 
 To periihablc frames, too apt to draw 
 The foul afide, and lead it into vice •' 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Enter a Messenger from Plato. 
 
 Me s senger. 
 To thee, O Socrates, does Plato make 
 A tender of his heart— uncommon pains 
 Have feiz'd his limbs, and render him unfit 
 To pay his duty here, elie would he fpend 
 His hours with thee, while yet thou doft fubfift, 
 Tho' in a prilbn ; and with gladnels hear 
 Thy w ifdom-flowing tongue, which oft' has charm'd 
 His lift'ning ear, and warm'd his glowing breaft 
 With foul-enraptur'd fire : his grateful heart 
 O'erflows with thanks for thy benevolence 
 And friendly care, which gave a happy turn 
 To his young mind, and rais'd his grov'ling Ibul 
 From fordid earth, to dignity and worth. 
 
 Socrates. 
 Plato is worthy of my tendereft wiih 
 And high regard : O may the God I ferve 
 Give him to live, 'till he has run his courle 
 Of virtue here ! his tow'ring genius foars 
 Like englcs on the wing, when toward heaven 
 
 They;
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 91 
 
 They rife in rapid flight, and view the fun 
 
 In his meridian blaze : Plato has drank 
 
 Deep at my fpring, and knows the moral (ourcs 
 
 From whence it flows : to him and Xenophon 
 
 I pour'd out all my foul, and found a foil 
 
 Fit to receive the feeds I meant to f()w 
 
 In generous minds, by nature form'd to tafle 
 
 Propriety and order : for I chofe 
 
 The tablets of the heart whereon to ftamp 
 
 My living precepts, rather than to ufe 
 
 The fkins of beafls — fhould my lov'd Plato write 
 
 Aught of his Socrates j his candid pen 
 
 Will fair defcribe the mafter and the friend — 
 
 * O Xenophon ! thy fate has call'd the forth 
 
 To noble deeds of arms ; at thy return 
 
 Athens lliall fliine in fair hiftoric page j 
 
 Nor thy old Socrates be left unprais'd. 
 
 O ! may they live in peace ! may miniflers 
 
 Of light attend them thro' the dreary vale 
 
 Of this dark world, 'till we fhall meet above. 
 
 Never to part again ! there fhall our fouls 
 
 From bond of body free, range uncontroul'd 
 
 * Xenophon was about that time conducing that memorable retreat of the 
 ten thoufand Greeks from the remoteft part of Perlia into their own country — 
 which retreat of fix hundred and twenty leagues, was made in one hundred 
 and twenty-two days marches, and in the fpace of eight months, of which 
 the whole honour is almoft due to himfelf, as well in regard to the advice and 
 good condud:, as in relation to the command of the enterprize. 
 
 N 2 Th 
 
 :ro
 
 92 SOCRATES, 
 
 Thro' pure etherial fpace, and thence iurvey 
 With true delight all fublunary things, 
 
 Mes se n g er. 
 Thou honour'd (a^e, adieu ! 
 
 Socrates. 
 
 Adieu, good man ! 
 Health to my Plato — Bid him bear in mind 
 Our moral converfe, and purfoe the path 
 Which leads where truth and probity prefidc ; 
 Bid him not mourn for me— I wait with joy 
 The coming hour ! — O ! may this happy day 
 For ever Ihine in the records of fame, 
 And iliew the merits of my blamelefs life ! 
 
 Messenger. 
 With faithful care I will relate to Plato 
 The purport of thy words — once more adieu. 
 
 So crates. 
 
 Crito ! O my friends ! tell Xenophon, 
 
 1 gladly would have feen him ere the power 
 Of fpeech was loft— he fairly trac'd my foul 
 By all it's reas'ning clues, and hope he holds 
 My moral precepts fully in his view, 
 
 To guide his conduft thro' this vale of woe. 
 
 Crito. 
 Thy orders, Socrates, ihall be obey'd; 
 And he ihall be acquainted with the whole. 
 From thy appearance in the court, 'till death 
 Shall clofe thole eyes. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SOC R AT £ ?.
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 93 
 
 So CRATES. 
 
 I hope he'll hear thy tale 
 Without concern, fave what our friendlhip claims, 
 The goodly offspring of united minds. 
 
 S C E N E V. 
 
 Enter G o a l e r. 
 
 Go ALE R. 
 
 This is the deftln'd hour, when you muft take 
 The fatal cup. 
 
 SOC R AT E s. 
 
 Pray what is to be done 
 When I have ta'en the draught ? for I would chooie 
 To die as I'm directed. 
 
 Go AL ER. 
 
 Walk about 
 'Till you begin to find your failing legs 
 Grow weary of their load, then lie fuplne 
 Upon your bed, to give the liquor leave 
 To check the blood, and operate with force. 
 
 SoC R AT ES. 
 
 Come, give it me :-— that welcome precious cup, 
 
 That cordial to the Ibul of Socrates, 
 
 That i\veet releafe from anxious care and toil, 
 
 I Joyous hold ; by this fhall I aicend 
 
 The habitations of the juft, beyond 
 
 The reach of malice — I alixady Ibar — 
 
 Already
 
 94 S O C R T A E S, 
 
 Already fee— (what beam divine is this !) 
 The manfions open, where the bleft iliall reign 
 In robes of glory — Friend, — iay, can 1 fparc 
 As muft of this kind potion as would make 
 A fiiiall libation. 
 
 G o A L E R. 
 I prepar'd the dole 
 Juft of fufficient force to make thy end 
 As cafy as I could. 
 
 SOC R A TES. 
 
 I thank thee, friend— 
 
 Thy vifitations fince I hither came 
 
 Have been humane and kind— tho' nought, thou fay'eft, 
 
 Can from this cup be fpar'd -, yet I may pour 
 
 My prayers forth to the great God who rules 
 
 In heaven and earth fupreme, that he may make 
 
 My exit from this world, and the laft ftage 
 
 Of life as eafy as his wifdom deems 
 
 Moft proper for me 
 
 [Here Socrates Jlands filent for a JJjort time^ 
 and then drinks the cup mth amazing tran- 
 quility. 
 
 —Be thy blefled will 
 
 For ever mine ! Parent of heaven and earth. 
 
 And all the breathing forms that live in Thee, 
 
 To Thee I render back what cannot die ! 
 
 From Thee it came, and does to Thee return y 
 
 In hope of kind acceptance from the God 
 
 Who gave it pow'r to think ! O may he guard 
 
 The
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 95 
 
 The offspring of his goodnefs, rais'd to do 
 His will on earth,, and crown it with reward 
 Where reigns beatitude without allay ! — 
 
 Now muft I walk about a little time 
 
 Will fet me free from earth 
 
 \JVhen he had drufik the draught he looked about 
 and faw his friends weeping. 
 Ah ! where my friends, 
 Is now your virtue's wonted ftrength ? for this 
 I fent away the women, left their eyes 
 Should flow with tears of weakneis ; I have taught 
 That men fhould die in peace, and blefs the gods 
 For their departure hence, who have prepar'd 
 A better life for all who firmly tread 
 The paths of virtue, and puriiie the way 
 That leads to heav'n — O ! may my demeanour, 
 My fteady pra£l:ice in this aweful hour. 
 This hour, that verges on eternity, 
 Be fuch as Socrates himfelf would prallc ! — 
 Shall this divorce my weary foul from earth — 
 Tranlcendent drug — this trivial fimple draught— 
 This trampled weed confign me to the ftars ! 
 — So bountiful is nature— Ceafc to weep — 
 My countrymen, my friends — rather rejoice, 
 Rejoice with Socrates — his triumiph ihare — 
 No Ihade of doubt remains, 'tis day-light all— - 
 'Tis heaven itfelf unfolds — O wider ycr 
 Unfold that glorious gate, the courts of light--- 
 I fee, I (ce— no mortal tongue can utter — 
 
 I forin?".
 
 c^6 SOCRATES, 
 
 I fpring, I foar, I mingle with the bleft— 
 
 \He groves faint. 
 And yet— but frlcndililp comes from heav'n, farewel. 
 Nature forgoes her gripe — I feel — I feel 
 Her llacken'd hand~-thou potent, friendly draught— 
 My foul Is half cnlarg'd— embrace me— help me— - 
 Hold, hold me up— ye winged minifters — 
 To Thee, thou God fupreme — to Thee I give — 
 Thou lource of life — but O my foul is thine — 
 Take back this portion of thyfelf — take back — 
 Let Socrates be thine — for ever — 
 
 Cr ito. 
 I'll do the laft kind office to my friend, 
 I'll clofe his eyes that fet in ihades of night, 
 And foe his funeral obfoquies perform'd. — 
 
 Chorus of etherial Spirits. 
 
 [^Expires. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 Hail, Innocence, thou heav'n-born maid ! 
 
 Before thee walks a virgin train, 
 In virtue's faireft robes array'd. 
 White as the milky way unknown to foil or ftain. 
 
 Behind, Content with finlling face, 
 
 Fair meek-ey'd nymph, holds on her way, 
 Purfues thee with an even pace. 
 And from thy cheering path does never devious ftray. 
 
 At
 
 A Dramatic POEM. 97 
 
 At thy command relentlcis death. 
 Daughter of Erebus and night, 
 Yet pleas'd awaits thy lateft breath ; 
 And fees the foul afcend on beams of fih-er light. 
 
 There In lable weeds array'd 
 All that of Socrates could die, 
 
 \_Pointing to the dead body. 
 Releas'd from mortal care Is laid ; 
 Of parts terrene compos'd, and alien from the fky. 
 
 But as we hither fped our way, 
 
 We faw the living part afcend, 
 Bright as the pure etherial ray, 
 And tow'rd the court of heav'n, with fbaring effort tend. 
 
 Him fbon, when rage and envy ceafe ; 
 
 When reafon hath refum'd her throne. 
 And cooler thoughts give paffion eafe ; 
 Athens fhall mourn in tears, and willi the deed undone. 
 
 To him they fhall choice flatues raife. 
 
 With ornamental fculpture grac'd. 
 Fair meed of worth and virtue's praife. 
 To his immortal fame in the * Pompeian plac'd. 
 
 * This was one of the houfes belonging to the repubh'c of Athens, called 
 the houfe of pomps, becaufe it was particularly appointed for tlie preparation 
 of their pomps and ceremonies. — 
 
 Diagenes ftatue of Socrates. 
 
 O To
 
 5)8 S O C R A T E S, &CC. 
 
 To him rich llirlnes fhall honour pay, 
 
 Ercftcd by decrees of ftatc ; 
 To him lliall injur'd fuppliants pray- 
 So will the Gods above, and what they will is fate. 
 
 THE END.
 
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