Poems by the late Hon. William R. Spencer A New Edition with Corrections and Additions; To Which is Prefixed A Biographical Memoir by the Editor |
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PROLOGUE
TO
THE WYNSTAY MASQUERADE,
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 | Poems by the late Hon. William R. Spencer |  |
161
PROLOGUE TO THE WYNSTAY MASQUERADE,
BY A TAILOR POET OF A STROLLING COMPANY.
Gentles, Apollo Starveling is my name;
'Midst all these heroes of dramatic fame,
To none in use, or dignity, I stoop,
Tailor and poet to the Cambrian troop:
Howe'er unlike at first they seem to be,
Trust me, these trades in various points agree;
I can unite, without dispute or quarrel,
The shears, the lyre, the cabbage, and the laurel,
Fustian! than thine, no merit e'er was clearer,
Dear to the tailor, to the poet dearer:
My grateful muse with joy thy worth rehearses,
In jackets good, unparallel'd in verses!
I own my task is hard, when business presses,
To make up at one time both piece and dresses:
“Hey, Starveling! where's my ruff? for God's sake bring it;
Hey, Starveling! change this song, or I can't sing it;
Lengthen this doublet, shorten these two speeches;
Zounds! write my prologue; d—n it, mend my breeches!”
'Midst all these heroes of dramatic fame,
To none in use, or dignity, I stoop,
Tailor and poet to the Cambrian troop:
Howe'er unlike at first they seem to be,
Trust me, these trades in various points agree;
I can unite, without dispute or quarrel,
The shears, the lyre, the cabbage, and the laurel,
Fustian! than thine, no merit e'er was clearer,
Dear to the tailor, to the poet dearer:
My grateful muse with joy thy worth rehearses,
In jackets good, unparallel'd in verses!
I own my task is hard, when business presses,
To make up at one time both piece and dresses:
162
Hey, Starveling! change this song, or I can't sing it;
Lengthen this doublet, shorten these two speeches;
Zounds! write my prologue; d—n it, mend my breeches!”
Of all the countries which I yet have seen,
This for my double trade the best has been;
I find in every rock, and cave, and glen,
Work for the tailor's thread, or poet's pen.
The mountain crags, which lead to nobler views,
Tear every coat, and waken every muse;
Each walk to fancy, or to trade, of use is,
Each step a sonnet, or a job produces.
But still the drama is my proper sphere,
And for the stage what charming scenes are here!
Each laughing hour of these convivial days
Affords me stuff to work up twenty plays;
Such patterns of good sense which all approve,
Such habits of benevolence and love;
Scenes with such beauty, wit, and feeling blest,
Each look a grace, and ev'ry word a jest:
Such charms, such hearts, such folly founded on sense,
Such mirth, such worth, such wisdom, and such nonsense!
And if from comic scenes our strain we raise,
To sing the hero's and the patriot's praise,
Where in all hist'ry can the tragic muse
A nobler theme than Ancient Britons chuse,
To tell when loyalty and honour call'd,
When mad rebellion ev'ry heart appall'd,
How Ancient Britons fought, and oh, to tell,
Too tragic is the tale, how Ancient Britons fell!
This for my double trade the best has been;
I find in every rock, and cave, and glen,
Work for the tailor's thread, or poet's pen.
The mountain crags, which lead to nobler views,
Tear every coat, and waken every muse;
Each walk to fancy, or to trade, of use is,
Each step a sonnet, or a job produces.
But still the drama is my proper sphere,
And for the stage what charming scenes are here!
Each laughing hour of these convivial days
Affords me stuff to work up twenty plays;
Such patterns of good sense which all approve,
Such habits of benevolence and love;
Scenes with such beauty, wit, and feeling blest,
Each look a grace, and ev'ry word a jest:
Such charms, such hearts, such folly founded on sense,
Such mirth, such worth, such wisdom, and such nonsense!
163
To sing the hero's and the patriot's praise,
Where in all hist'ry can the tragic muse
A nobler theme than Ancient Britons chuse,
To tell when loyalty and honour call'd,
When mad rebellion ev'ry heart appall'd,
How Ancient Britons fought, and oh, to tell,
Too tragic is the tale, how Ancient Britons fell!
| Poems by the late Hon. William R. Spencer | |