 | Irene |  |
PROLOGUE.
Ye
glitt'ring Train! whom Lace and Velvet bless,
Suspend the soft Sollicitudes of Dress;
From grov'ling Business and superfluous Care,
Ye Sons of Avarice! a Moment spare:
Vot'ries of Fame and Worshippers of Pow'r!
Dismiss the pleasing Phantoms for an Hour.
Our daring Bard with Spirit unconfin'd,
Spreads wide the mighty Moral for Mankind.
Learn here how Heav'n supports the virtuous Mind,
Daring, tho' calm; and vigorous, tho' resign'd.
Learn here what Anguish racks the guilty Breast,
In Pow'r dependent, in Success deprest.
Learn here that Peace from Innocence must flow;
All else is empty Sound, and idle Show.
Suspend the soft Sollicitudes of Dress;
From grov'ling Business and superfluous Care,
Ye Sons of Avarice! a Moment spare:
Vot'ries of Fame and Worshippers of Pow'r!
Dismiss the pleasing Phantoms for an Hour.
Our daring Bard with Spirit unconfin'd,
Spreads wide the mighty Moral for Mankind.
Learn here how Heav'n supports the virtuous Mind,
Daring, tho' calm; and vigorous, tho' resign'd.
Learn here what Anguish racks the guilty Breast,
In Pow'r dependent, in Success deprest.
Learn here that Peace from Innocence must flow;
All else is empty Sound, and idle Show.
If Truths like these with pleasing Language join;
Ennobled, yet unchang'd, if Nature shine:
If no wild Draught depart from Reason's Rules,
Nor Gods his Heroes, nor his Lovers Fools:
Intriguing Wits! his artless Plot forgive;
And spare him, Beauties! tho' his Lovers live.
Ennobled, yet unchang'd, if Nature shine:
If no wild Draught depart from Reason's Rules,
Nor Gods his Heroes, nor his Lovers Fools:
Intriguing Wits! his artless Plot forgive;
And spare him, Beauties! tho' his Lovers live.
Be this at least his Praise; be this his Pride;
To force Applause no modern Arts are try'd.
Shou'd partial Cat-calls all his Hopes confound;
He bids no Trumpet quell the fatal Sound.
Shou'd welcome Sleep relieve the weary Wit,
He rolls no Thunders o'er the drowsy Pit.
No Snares to captivate the Judgment spreads;
Nor bribes your Eyes to prejudice your Heads.
Unmov'd tho' Witlings sneer and Rivals rail;
Studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail.
He scorns the meek Address, the suppliant Strain,
With Merit needless, and without it vain.
In Reason, Nature, Truth he dares to trust:
Ye Fops be silent! and ye Wits be just!
To force Applause no modern Arts are try'd.
He bids no Trumpet quell the fatal Sound.
Shou'd welcome Sleep relieve the weary Wit,
He rolls no Thunders o'er the drowsy Pit.
No Snares to captivate the Judgment spreads;
Nor bribes your Eyes to prejudice your Heads.
Unmov'd tho' Witlings sneer and Rivals rail;
Studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail.
He scorns the meek Address, the suppliant Strain,
With Merit needless, and without it vain.
In Reason, Nature, Truth he dares to trust:
Ye Fops be silent! and ye Wits be just!
| Irene | |