Mr. Cooke's Original Poems with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language |
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| [PROLOGUES.] |
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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
157
[PROLOGUES.]
PROLOGUE the First. To Penelope, A Burlesque Opera, performed in the Year 1728.
If Eyes which from a pious Sorrow flow,
If Virtue struggling thro a Length of Woe,
Are Objects to demand a gen'rous Tear,
Who, Britons, shall deny the Tribute here?
If Virtue struggling thro a Length of Woe,
Are Objects to demand a gen'rous Tear,
Who, Britons, shall deny the Tribute here?
This Night our Bard on Homer builds his Fame;
Who is not aw'd at that immortal Name!
Our Scenes, in all the Pomp of Grief, disclose
A Matron chast, a Man of wond'rous Woes,
A Hero doom'd to change, when scarcely wed,
For the rough Trade of War the bridal Bed,
Thro various Lands, and Men unknown, to roam,
Far from his sole Delight, and native Home,
From Perils great, hard Lot! to greater toss'd,
Twenty long Years by adverse Fortune cross'd;
Yet see him great above Afflictions rise,
The Admiration of the brave and wise!
Who is not aw'd at that immortal Name!
Our Scenes, in all the Pomp of Grief, disclose
A Matron chast, a Man of wond'rous Woes,
A Hero doom'd to change, when scarcely wed,
For the rough Trade of War the bridal Bed,
Thro various Lands, and Men unknown, to roam,
Far from his sole Delight, and native Home,
From Perils great, hard Lot! to greater toss'd,
Twenty long Years by adverse Fortune cross'd;
158
The Admiration of the brave and wise!
O! ye bright Stars of Love, ye virtuous Fair,
When ye behold our widow'd Wife despair,
When you behold her charming in Distress,
All beauteous in her Negligence of Dress,
Let a soft Tear a-down your Roses steal,
To shew us what by Sympathy ye feel.
When ye behold our widow'd Wife despair,
When you behold her charming in Distress,
All beauteous in her Negligence of Dress,
Let a soft Tear a-down your Roses steal,
To shew us what by Sympathy ye feel.
The Time was once, the Poet's happyer Days,
When ev'ry Breast in Sighs confess'd his Praise.
We want not living Chronicles to tell,
When Belvedira dy'd, and Jaffeir fell,
How Hearts of Heros melted with Applause,
And softest Bosoms heav'd in Jaffeir's Cause.
The present Taste for Farce we would controul,
And to kind Pity mould the gen'rous Soul.
When ev'ry Breast in Sighs confess'd his Praise.
We want not living Chronicles to tell,
When Belvedira dy'd, and Jaffeir fell,
How Hearts of Heros melted with Applause,
And softest Bosoms heav'd in Jaffeir's Cause.
The present Taste for Farce we would controul,
And to kind Pity mould the gen'rous Soul.
When, Picture of Distress, our Dame appears,
Her Tresses loose, her Eyes bedew'd with Tears,
Learn, O! ye Fair, learn from our virtuous Wife,
How to support with Fame a widow'd Life.
Her Tresses loose, her Eyes bedew'd with Tears,
Learn, O! ye Fair, learn from our virtuous Wife,
How to support with Fame a widow'd Life.
159
PROLOGUE the Second. Spoke on opening the new Theatre in the Hay-market with Dryden's Spanish Friar.
Studious to please, but with a conscious Fear,
A Rev'rence due to the bright Circle here,
From long successful Farce we dare to stray,
And open to politer Scenes the Way.
A Rev'rence due to the bright Circle here,
From long successful Farce we dare to stray,
And open to politer Scenes the Way.
Young to the Stage, by Emulation fir'd,
What can we not if by your Smiles inspir'd?
Here youthful Ammon shall command the Ball,
And mighty Julius here lamented fall;
Vanoc shall rage, and, crown'd with your Applause,
Cato prescribe his little Senate Laws.
Monimia wrong'd the tender Soul shall move,
And Anthony well lose the World for Love.
In lighter Scenes the comic Muse shall play,
With drolling Falstaffe, and Sir Fopling gay.
Gomez shall curse his irksome Hours of Life,
Plagu'd with a Soldier, Friar, and a Wife.
What can we not if by your Smiles inspir'd?
Here youthful Ammon shall command the Ball,
And mighty Julius here lamented fall;
Vanoc shall rage, and, crown'd with your Applause,
Cato prescribe his little Senate Laws.
Monimia wrong'd the tender Soul shall move,
And Anthony well lose the World for Love.
In lighter Scenes the comic Muse shall play,
With drolling Falstaffe, and Sir Fopling gay.
160
Plagu'd with a Soldier, Friar, and a Wife.
Britons once more resume the Taste ye boast,
Nor vex with cold Neglect great Dryden's Ghost.
Take us, O! take us, to your fost'ring Care,
Our Pride shall be to please the brave and fair.
Nor vex with cold Neglect great Dryden's Ghost.
Take us, O! take us, to your fost'ring Care,
Our Pride shall be to please the brave and fair.
161
PROLOGUE the Third. Spoke by Mr. Henry Giffard, on opening the new Theatre in Goodman's-Fields the 31st of October 1729.
As antient Greece and Rome their Conquests spread,
Each Sister Art uprais'd her learned Head;
In brightest Annals still those Nations shine,
Who look'd propitious on the Virgin Nine:
This, Britain, is thy Boast, and this thy Gain,
And one bright Glory of Eliza's Reign:
Each Age shall raise her Monuments of Fame;
And Blessings ever shall attend her Name.
The Progress hence of Sciences we trace,
Still blooming fair beneath a Brunswick's Race:
Long may they bloom beneath a George's Sway,
As Flow'rs are cherish'd by the Eye of Day:
Beneath his Care unhurt may Commerce stand,
The great Support, the Goddess, of our Land:
To our dread Fleet may proud Insulters bend,
And Peace at home her Olive-bough extend.
Each Sister Art uprais'd her learned Head;
In brightest Annals still those Nations shine,
Who look'd propitious on the Virgin Nine:
This, Britain, is thy Boast, and this thy Gain,
And one bright Glory of Eliza's Reign:
Each Age shall raise her Monuments of Fame;
And Blessings ever shall attend her Name.
The Progress hence of Sciences we trace,
Still blooming fair beneath a Brunswick's Race:
Long may they bloom beneath a George's Sway,
As Flow'rs are cherish'd by the Eye of Day:
Beneath his Care unhurt may Commerce stand,
The great Support, the Goddess, of our Land:
162
And Peace at home her Olive-bough extend.
Where Plenty smiles the Muses now repair,
And for Protection sue without Despair;
Not vainly conscious of our Worth we sue,
But hope Indulgence from the gen'rous few.
And for Protection sue without Despair;
Not vainly conscious of our Worth we sue,
But hope Indulgence from the gen'rous few.
Ambitious of your Praise, we'll strive to please,
And raise the Mind to Virtue by Degrees.
The tragic Muse shall, by Example, prove
The dire Effects of Pride, and lawless Love,
Shall all her Charms, her ev'ry Pow'r, employ
To shew how Virtue is the Source of Joy.
The Sister Muse shall, in her comic Strain,
Expose the leud, the Coward, and the vain,
Thro ev'ry Frailty of weak Man shall run,
Shew what we shou'd embrace, and what to shun.
And raise the Mind to Virtue by Degrees.
The tragic Muse shall, by Example, prove
The dire Effects of Pride, and lawless Love,
Shall all her Charms, her ev'ry Pow'r, employ
To shew how Virtue is the Source of Joy.
The Sister Muse shall, in her comic Strain,
Expose the leud, the Coward, and the vain,
Thro ev'ry Frailty of weak Man shall run,
Shew what we shou'd embrace, and what to shun.
For this we toil, for this we tread the Stage,
And, as the Muse inspires, instruct the Age:
To the base Aids of Vice we'll ne'er descend,
Studious to please, and cautious to offend.
And, as the Muse inspires, instruct the Age:
To the base Aids of Vice we'll ne'er descend,
Studious to please, and cautious to offend.
163
PROLOGUE the Fourth. TO LOVE and REVENGE,
OR THE VINTNER Outwitted, A Ballad-Opera performed in the Year 1729.
As routed Squadrons quit the hostile Field,
O'erpow'r'd by Numbers, yet too brave to yield,
Their Troops they rally, and their Loss supply,
Once more resolv'd the Fate of War to try,
So from successless Toils our Heads we raise,
Studious to please, and proud to aim at Praise:
Your Smiles alone can animate the Stage,
Inspire with comic Mirth or tragic Rage:
New Life we breathe, when crown'd with your Applause,
And glory to pursue so just a Cause:
Honour commands, and we obey the Call;
And, if we fall, 'tis no Disgrace to fall:
In great Attempts alone true Merit lys;
He well deserves, in Fight who bravely dys.
O'erpow'r'd by Numbers, yet too brave to yield,
Their Troops they rally, and their Loss supply,
Once more resolv'd the Fate of War to try,
So from successless Toils our Heads we raise,
Studious to please, and proud to aim at Praise:
Your Smiles alone can animate the Stage,
Inspire with comic Mirth or tragic Rage:
164
And glory to pursue so just a Cause:
Honour commands, and we obey the Call;
And, if we fall, 'tis no Disgrace to fall:
In great Attempts alone true Merit lys;
He well deserves, in Fight who bravely dys.
No envious Motives shall our Labours stain;
By no mean Arts we wou'd our Glory gain:
Unenvy'd we behold each rival Stage,
And wish them happy in a grateful Age:
Where'e'r the Muse and her Attendants dwell,
Still may they flourish as they merit well.
By no mean Arts we wou'd our Glory gain:
Unenvy'd we behold each rival Stage,
And wish them happy in a grateful Age:
Where'e'r the Muse and her Attendants dwell,
Still may they flourish as they merit well.
From Scenes
of old our present Tale we draw,
And make with Joy your Taste alone our Law;
We dare not on the comic Scene rely,
Till to the sprightly Song for Aid we fly:
Henceforth we may, if thus we gain your Praise,
Improve your Pleasures, and our Merits raise.
And make with Joy your Taste alone our Law;
We dare not on the comic Scene rely,
Till to the sprightly Song for Aid we fly:
Henceforth we may, if thus we gain your Praise,
Improve your Pleasures, and our Merits raise.
The first Play that was wrote on this Plan was by one Marston: it was altered by Christopher Bullock, a Comedian, almost an hundred Years after: and on the same Plan it was put into the Form in which it now is.
165
PROLOGUE the Fifth. To the Devil to pay,
OR The Wives Metamorphosed, A BALLAD-OPERA. Spoke by Mr. Cibber.
In antient Greece the comic Muse appear'd,
Sworn Foe to Vice, by Virtue's Friends rever'd:
Impartial she indulg'd her noble Rage;
For Satire was the Bus'ness of the Stage:
No reigning Ill was from her Censure free,
No Sex, no Age of Man, and no Degree:
Whoe'er by Passion was, or Folly, led,
The laurel'd Chief, or sacerdotal Head,
The pedant Sophist, or imperious Dame,
She lash'd the Evil, nor conceal'd the Name.
Sworn Foe to Vice, by Virtue's Friends rever'd:
Impartial she indulg'd her noble Rage;
For Satire was the Bus'ness of the Stage:
No reigning Ill was from her Censure free,
No Sex, no Age of Man, and no Degree:
Whoe'er by Passion was, or Folly, led,
The laurel'd Chief, or sacerdotal Head,
The pedant Sophist, or imperious Dame,
She lash'd the Evil, nor conceal'd the Name.
166
How hard the Fate of Wives in those sad Times,
When saucy Poets would chastise their Crimes!
When each cornuting Mate, each rampant Jilt,
Had her Name branded on the Stage with Guilt!
Each Fair may now the comic Muse endure,
And join the Laugh, tho at herself, secure.
When saucy Poets would chastise their Crimes!
When each cornuting Mate, each rampant Jilt,
Had her Name branded on the Stage with Guilt!
Each Fair may now the comic Muse endure,
And join the Laugh, tho at herself, secure.
Link'd to a patient Lord, this Night behold
A wilful, headstrong, Termagant, and Scold;
Whom, tho her Husband did what Man cou'd do,
The Devil only cou'd relaim like you,
Like you, whose Virtues bright embellish Life,
And add a Blessing to the Name of Wife.
A wilful, headstrong, Termagant, and Scold;
Whom, tho her Husband did what Man cou'd do,
The Devil only cou'd relaim like you,
Like you, whose Virtues bright embellish Life,
And add a Blessing to the Name of Wife.
A merry
Wag, to mend vexatious Brides,
These Scenes begun, which shak'd your Father's Sides;
And we, obsequious to your Taste, prolong
Your Mirth, by courting the Supplys of Song:
If you approve, we our Desires obtain,
And from your Pleasure shall compute our Gain.
These Scenes begun, which shak'd your Father's Sides;
And we, obsequious to your Taste, prolong
Your Mirth, by courting the Supplys of Song:
If you approve, we our Desires obtain,
And from your Pleasure shall compute our Gain.
167
PROLOGUE the Sixth. Spoke by Mr. Milward to the Country Wife.
Censure, Detraction, and the Critic's Rage,
Are Mulcts on all who labour for the Stage;
These once our Author bore, and bore with Ease,
As they are chiefly lay'd on such as please.
Are Mulcts on all who labour for the Stage;
These once our Author bore, and bore with Ease,
As they are chiefly lay'd on such as please.
The Curse of Fools was mighty Dryden's Lot;
Nor while he lives, will they be quite forgot:
To blast his Worth a Bigot Milbourne rose,
A Collier, Blackmore, and a Herd of Foes:
His Fame still blooms, and gathers Strength with Time;
And they're remember'd—as the Pests of Rhyme.
Nor while he lives, will they be quite forgot:
To blast his Worth a Bigot Milbourne rose,
A Collier, Blackmore, and a Herd of Foes:
His Fame still blooms, and gathers Strength with Time;
And they're remember'd—as the Pests of Rhyme.
Detractive Envy, when her Object's fled,
Tho she the living haunts, should spare the dead:
If Manly too morosely fills the Scene,
His honest Satire shou'd excuse his Spleen:
Unhurt, untouch'd, remain the virtuous Fair,
When Horner shews what wanton Women are:
Tho black the Jet we call, and black the Crow,
White is the Ermine still, and white the Snow.
Be Faults, if few, from vulgar Eyes conceal'd,
Like Spots scarce heeded on the burnish'd Shield.
Beautys with Errors in the Ballance weigh;
And, where the first are heavyest, crown the Lay.
Tho she the living haunts, should spare the dead:
168
His honest Satire shou'd excuse his Spleen:
Unhurt, untouch'd, remain the virtuous Fair,
When Horner shews what wanton Women are:
Tho black the Jet we call, and black the Crow,
White is the Ermine still, and white the Snow.
Be Faults, if few, from vulgar Eyes conceal'd,
Like Spots scarce heeded on the burnish'd Shield.
Beautys with Errors in the Ballance weigh;
And, where the first are heavyest, crown the Lay.
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |