The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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PROLOGUE For the third Night, at Zara, when first play'd, at the Great Musick Room, in Villars Street, York Buildings.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
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PROLOGUE For the third Night, at Zara, when first play'd, at the Great Musick Room, in Villars Street, York Buildings.
He, whose wish'd service did my help engage,
(Nor Actor I—nor studious of the stage!)
To aid whose purpose, and support whose cause,
This scene unaqual (to our Zara) draws:
To night, by sickness, from this presence, held,
Mourns his weak will, by want of power repell'd,
(Nor Actor I—nor studious of the stage!)
To aid whose purpose, and support whose cause,
This scene unaqual (to our Zara) draws:
To night, by sickness, from this presence, held,
Mourns his weak will, by want of power repell'd,
Willing to please—and struggling to succeed,
He's gone, from acting death—to die, indeed!
Exhausted spirits, urging on decay,
Wasted his strength, and wore his life away:
'Till from the stage, to his last bed, confin'd,
He left us—But, he left his thanks, behind:
Living, he owns his gratitude your due;
And, if he dies—in death, he blesses you.
He's gone, from acting death—to die, indeed!
Exhausted spirits, urging on decay,
Wasted his strength, and wore his life away:
'Till from the stage, to his last bed, confin'd,
He left us—But, he left his thanks, behind:
Living, he owns his gratitude your due;
And, if he dies—in death, he blesses you.
For
me, mean while—who can but what I can,
To Osman's weight, is added Lusignan!
Two parts, at once!—that height I fear to scale!
Would he were here, to charm!—for, I shall fail,
Musick was his—But now, by woes oppress'd,
Sad Nightingale! the thorn is, at his breast;
His suff'ring virtue! his undue distress!
Learning, unprop'd! afflicted manliness!
Sickness, and pain, with patience, holding strife!
Wrestling with merit; and disjointing life!
These are pretensions, which must, here, prevail,
And touch your generous hearts—howe'er I fail.
To Osman's weight, is added Lusignan!
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Would he were here, to charm!—for, I shall fail,
Musick was his—But now, by woes oppress'd,
Sad Nightingale! the thorn is, at his breast;
His suff'ring virtue! his undue distress!
Learning, unprop'd! afflicted manliness!
Sickness, and pain, with patience, holding strife!
Wrestling with merit; and disjointing life!
These are pretensions, which must, here, prevail,
And touch your generous hearts—howe'er I fail.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |