 | The Black Prince |  |
PROLOGUE TO THE KING.
The Poet, Sir, has offer'd to your sightAn English Prince, whose Fame appear'd so Bright,
As never any since his time was known,
To shine with clearer Lustre, but your Own;
For though Immortal Honour he did gain,
By conquering France, and by restoring Spain,
Yet, Sir, you brought Three Kingdomes to Remorse,
And gain'd by Vertue more then he by Force;
Which, Sir, on you a greater Name bestows
By conquering Them by whom he conquered Those:
'Tis more by Vertue England to o'recome,
Then by the English to beat Christendome.
As when the Universe was to be made,
The Vast Design was on the Waters laid;
So you in Conquering it like Method keep,
Laying your first Foundation in the Deep:
Though the Black Prince, so happy, Sir, did prove,
As to be Crown'd with Victory and Love,
Yet Sir, he knows from you he may receive
A Nobler Crown then War or Love can give;
This makes him like the Poet trembling stand,
Till, Sir, that Crown be given him by your Hand.
FINIS.
| The Black Prince | |