The Poetical Works of Anna Seward With Extracts from her Literary Correspondence. Edited by Walter Scott ... In Three Volumes |
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PROLOGUE
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 | The Poetical Works of Anna Seward |  |
168
PROLOGUE
WRITTEN FOR MR PENN.
With Nature's truth, be it the actor's care,
By turns, each passion's varied form to wear;
Assume the joy, the grief, the fear, the rage,
That charm, and thrill, and fire the scenic page;
Bid Rowe, bid Otway's magic softness rise,
Steal o'er his form, and languish in his eyes;
Melt in his voice, till Memory hints no more
The woes unreal; but, with forfeit power,
Resigns her empire o'er the yielding soul
To sighs and tears she ceases to controul.
By turns, each passion's varied form to wear;
Assume the joy, the grief, the fear, the rage,
That charm, and thrill, and fire the scenic page;
Bid Rowe, bid Otway's magic softness rise,
Steal o'er his form, and languish in his eyes;
Melt in his voice, till Memory hints no more
The woes unreal; but, with forfeit power,
Resigns her empire o'er the yielding soul
To sighs and tears she ceases to controul.
169
Take heed that energy, sublimely strong,
Imbibe the meteor-fires of gloomy Young;
When, as scorn'd love paternal envy goads,
Fierce Perseus invocates the dire abodes;
To aid grim Vengeance, calls their demon hosts
From the red confines of sulphureous coasts;
Or, when fell Zanga's sable hand shall spread
“Eternal curtains round Alonzo's bed.”
Imbibe the meteor-fires of gloomy Young;
When, as scorn'd love paternal envy goads,
Fierce Perseus invocates the dire abodes;
To aid grim Vengeance, calls their demon hosts
From the red confines of sulphureous coasts;
Or, when fell Zanga's sable hand shall spread
“Eternal curtains round Alonzo's bed.”
Now, as the powers of later genius shine,
And Jephson glows along his nervous line,
Ne'er may unskilful acting cloud the rays,
Inferior only to his Shakespear's blaze!
Whether, with every anguish Love can feel,
Braganza tremble at th' impending steel;
Or the devoted Narbonne's passions lead,
Headlong and fierce, to the accursed deed,
While rolls the thunder, and the lightnings glare
On the proud Filiacide's upstarting hair.
And Jephson glows along his nervous line,
Ne'er may unskilful acting cloud the rays,
Inferior only to his Shakespear's blaze!
Whether, with every anguish Love can feel,
Braganza tremble at th' impending steel;
Or the devoted Narbonne's passions lead,
Headlong and fierce, to the accursed deed,
While rolls the thunder, and the lightnings glare
On the proud Filiacide's upstarting hair.
In scenes like these, the just performer draws
The fixed attention, and the mute applause;
Yet most his powers enkindle rising fame
From mighty Shakespear's orb of solar flame.
The fixed attention, and the mute applause;
Yet most his powers enkindle rising fame
From mighty Shakespear's orb of solar flame.
But real grief, the scenic Proteus knows,
Will blunt the mimic joys, the mimic woes.
How hard to breathe, tho' loftiest themes inspire,
The monarch's dignity, the warrior's fire;
The phrenzied passion, in its dreariest glare,
Love's tender grace, and Hope's energic air,
When sharp Distress, the bane of studious Art,
Sits, like a vulture, on the bleeding heart.
Will blunt the mimic joys, the mimic woes.
170
The monarch's dignity, the warrior's fire;
The phrenzied passion, in its dreariest glare,
Love's tender grace, and Hope's energic air,
When sharp Distress, the bane of studious Art,
Sits, like a vulture, on the bleeding heart.
Long 'twas my fate its ravenous tooth to feel,
Yet, unrepining, every pang conceal;
But, at the public smile, the bird of prey
Spreads his dark wing, and swiftly flies away.
Yet, unrepining, every pang conceal;
But, at the public smile, the bird of prey
Spreads his dark wing, and swiftly flies away.
With generous voice, and liberal hands, that know
Warmly to praise, and nobly to bestow,
My honour'd patrons, your protecting power,
So kindly active in this anxious hour,
Soft in my recent wounds pours oil and wine,
And bids the health of peace once more be mine!
Warmly to praise, and nobly to bestow,
My honour'd patrons, your protecting power,
So kindly active in this anxious hour,
Soft in my recent wounds pours oil and wine,
And bids the health of peace once more be mine!
| The Poetical Works of Anna Seward | |