The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke ... In Four Volumes Octavo. Revised and corrected by the Original Manuscript With a Portrait of the Author, and His Life By Miss Brooke. The Third Edition |
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PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND,
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 | The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke |  |
365
PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND,
A TRAGEDY.
Charm'd to this spot, concurring to this night,
Wide nations close, and centuries unite.
Scenes long erased, past ages rise to view,
Realms change their place, and Time returns—for you!
Wide nations close, and centuries unite.
Scenes long erased, past ages rise to view,
Realms change their place, and Time returns—for you!
The merchant venturous in his search of gain,
Who ploughs the winter of the boist'rous main,
From various climes collects a various store,
And lands the treasure on his native shore.
Our merchant yet imports no golden prize,
What wretches covet, and what you despise!
A different store his richer freight imparts—
The gem of virtue, and the gold of hearts;
The social sense, the feelings of mankind,
And the large treasure of a godlike mind!
Who ploughs the winter of the boist'rous main,
From various climes collects a various store,
And lands the treasure on his native shore.
Our merchant yet imports no golden prize,
What wretches covet, and what you despise!
A different store his richer freight imparts—
The gem of virtue, and the gold of hearts;
The social sense, the feelings of mankind,
And the large treasure of a godlike mind!
When Westmorland, unhappy, brave, and great,
Appears conflicting with the pow'rs of fate,
Guilty yet good, deserving yet forlorn,
And by the strife of warring passions torn—
Altho' our author brings the distant woe,
From eyes that wept a thousand years ago,
He claims your kindred tears for the distrest,
Nor thinks one virtue foreign to your breast!
Appears conflicting with the pow'rs of fate,
366
And by the strife of warring passions torn—
Altho' our author brings the distant woe,
From eyes that wept a thousand years ago,
He claims your kindred tears for the distrest,
Nor thinks one virtue foreign to your breast!
But when the bright Rowena shall appear,
First of her sex—except her rivals here—
No more let Man assert his lordly claim,
No more presume to step the first for fame;
But to the Fair their native rights allow,
Look round, and with becoming homage bow!
First of her sex—except her rivals here—
No more let Man assert his lordly claim,
No more presume to step the first for fame;
But to the Fair their native rights allow,
Look round, and with becoming homage bow!
| The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke | |