Pompey | ||
PROLOGUE, For the Theatre at Dublin, written by the Earl of Roscomon.
The mighty Rivals, whose destructive RageDid the whole World in Civil Arms engage,
Are now agreed, and make it both their Choice,
To have their Fates determin'd by your Voice.
Cæsar from none but You, will hear his Doom,
He hates th'obsequious Flatteries of Rome:
He scorns, where once he rul'd, now to be try'd,
And he hath rul'd in all the World beside.
When he the Thames, the Danube, and the Nile
Had stain'd with Blood, Peace flourished in this Isle;
And you alone may Boast, you never saw
Cæsar 'till now, and now can give him Law.
Great Pompey too, comes as a suppliant here,
But says He cannot now begin to fear.
A Roman Truth) He knows himself too well.
Success, tis true, waited on Cæsar's side,
But Pompey thinks he conquer'd when he dy'd.
His fortune when she prov'd the most unkind,
Chang'd his Condition, but not Cato's Mind.
Then of what Doubt can Pompey's Cause admit,
Since here so many Cato's Judging sit?
But you bright Nymphs, give Cæsar leave to woo
The greatest Wonder of the world but you.
And hear a Muse, who has that Hero taught
To speak as gen'rously, as e're he fought.
Whose Eloquence from such a Theme deters
All Tongues but English, and all pens but Hers.
By the just Fates your Sex is doubly blest,
You Conquer'd Cæsar, and you praise him best.
And You (Illustrious Sir) receive as due,
A Present Destiny reserv'd for You.
Rome, France and England joyn their Forces here,
To make a Poem worthy of your Ear.
Accept it then, and on that Pompey's Brow
Who gave so many Crowns, bestow one now.
Pompey | ||