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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ANOTHER PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke |  |
367
ANOTHER PROLOGUE TO THE EARL OF WESTMORLAND.
There was a time, these polish'd times preceding,
Ere our good sires of Britain—knew Fine Breeding;
Ere Honesty was elbow'd from the nation,
Or Life's Learn'd Lie entitled “Education.”
Ere our good sires of Britain—knew Fine Breeding;
Ere Honesty was elbow'd from the nation,
Or Life's Learn'd Lie entitled “Education.”
Bold Nature, then, disdain'd the mask of Art;
Man, on his open aspect, wore his heart.
Passion, then, knew, nor cover, nor controul;
Each action spoke the dictate of the soul:
Worth claim'd its triumphs, Guilt confest its stings,
And Truth was known at Courts—and told to Kings!
Man, on his open aspect, wore his heart.
Passion, then, knew, nor cover, nor controul;
Each action spoke the dictate of the soul:
Worth claim'd its triumphs, Guilt confest its stings,
And Truth was known at Courts—and told to Kings!
Such were your sires, humanely, nobly rude;
And such the good old times, for you renew'd!
And such the good old times, for you renew'd!
From the still regions of enduring night,
Our author calls the dead to life and light.
He bids your hearts to heave, your eyes to flow,
O'er griefs that past nine hundred years ago:
Bids Truth in Person tread Hibernia's stage,
And Action preach her sermon to the age;
The sermon to which Nature sets her seal—
For none can doubt the doctrine that they feel.
Our author calls the dead to life and light.
He bids your hearts to heave, your eyes to flow,
O'er griefs that past nine hundred years ago:
Bids Truth in Person tread Hibernia's stage,
And Action preach her sermon to the age;
The sermon to which Nature sets her seal—
For none can doubt the doctrine that they feel.
368
Sweet as a field that vernal breezes fan,
Sweet are emotions in the heart of man;
Sweet are the tears of worth, the ties of kin,
And all the home-bred charities within!
Sweet are emotions in the heart of man;
Sweet are the tears of worth, the ties of kin,
And all the home-bred charities within!
When human feelings the warm breast inspire,
When pity softens, and when passions fire;
Then glows the Mint of Nature, apt, refined,
And Virtue strikes her image on the mind.
When pity softens, and when passions fire;
Then glows the Mint of Nature, apt, refined,
And Virtue strikes her image on the mind.
If the distinguish'd hero of this night,
Is urged to leap the sacred mound of right;
If wildly tost on passion's stormy wave,
He wrecks the country he was born to save;
Know it is man's to err—and let that move,
To pity frailties that you can't approve.
Is urged to leap the sacred mound of right;
If wildly tost on passion's stormy wave,
He wrecks the country he was born to save;
Know it is man's to err—and let that move,
To pity frailties that you can't approve.
But when you see Rowena greatly soar,
A height that Virtue never dared before;
A summit, to aspiring man unknown,
And first, and last, atchiev'd by Her alone;
Then turn, and in her sex the Saint revere—
Then bend, with reverence, to the Chaste and Fair!
A height that Virtue never dared before;
A summit, to aspiring man unknown,
And first, and last, atchiev'd by Her alone;
Then turn, and in her sex the Saint revere—
Then bend, with reverence, to the Chaste and Fair!
| The Poetical Works of Henry Brooke | |