ANONYMOUS, 1769
“The Dramatic Race. A Catch. By a Lover of the Turf.”
Clear, clear the course—make room—make room, I say!
Now they are off, and Jonson makes the play.
I’ll bet the odds—done, sir, with you, and you;
Shakespeare keeps near him—and he’ll win it too:
Here’s even money—done for a hundred, done—
Now, Jonson! now or never—he has won.
I’ll take my oath, that Shakespeare won the prize,—
Damme! whoever says he lost it, lies.
Shakespeare’s Garland. Being a Collection of New Songs, Ballads, Roundelays, Catches, Glees, Comic Serenatas, etc., performed at the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon, 1769, p. 16.
ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, 1769
(d. 1812?)
“Queen Mab. A Cantata.”
Recitative
Not long ago, ’tis said, a proclamation
Was sent abroad through all the Fairy nation;
Mab to her loving subjects—A decree,
At Shakespeare’s tomb to hold a Jubilee.
Accompanied
The night was come, and now on Avon’s side
The pigmy race was seen,
Attended by their queen,
On chafers some, and some on crickets ride.
The queen appear’d from far,
Mounted in a nut-shell car;
Six painted lady-birds the carriage drew:
And now the cavalcade,
In order due array’d,
March’d first
Where erst
The sacred Mulb’ry grew,
And there their homage paid.
Next they sought the holy ground,
And while
A thousand glow-worm torches glimmer’d round;
Thus Good Fellow, the herald of his fame,
Did from the alabaster height proclaim
The poet’s titles and his style.
Air
Shakespeare, heaven’s most favour’d creature,
Truest copier of Nature,
First of the Parnassian train;
Chiefest fav’rite of the Muses,
Which soe’er the poet chooses,
Blest alike in ev’ry strain.
Life’s great censor, and inspector,
Fancy’s treasurer, wit’s director,
Artless, to the shame of art;
Master of the various passions,
Leader of all inclinations,
Sov’reign of the human heart.
Recitative
Then did the queen an acorn take,
Fill’d with morn and ev’ning dew,
Brush’d from ev’ry fragrant brake
That round the lawns of Stratford grew.
Accompanied
“And thus,” said she, “libation do I make
To our friend and father’s shade:
’Twas Shakespeare that the Fairies made;
And men shall give us honour for his sake.”
Air
O happy bard, whose potent skill
Can give existence where it will!
Let giant wisdom strive to chase
From man’s belief the Fairy race;
Religion stern our pow’r reject,
Philosophy our tales neglect,
Only trusting what ’tis seeing;
Combat us howe’er they list,
In thy scenes we shall exist,
Sure as if Nature gave us being.
Shakespeare’s Garland. Being a Collection of New Songs, Ballads, Roundelays, Catches, Glees, Comic Serenatas, etc., performed at the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon, 1769, p. 21.
This piece was set to music by Dibdin.