 | The History and Fall of Caius Marius |  |
PROLOGUE
Spoke by Mr. Betterton.
In
Ages past, (when will those Times renew?)
When Empires flourisht, so did Poets too.
When Great Augustus the World's Empire held,
Horace and Ovid's happy Verse excell'd.
Ovid's soft Genius and his tender Arts
Of moving Nature melted hardest Hearts.
It did th' Imperial Beauty Julia move
To listen to the Language of his Love.
Her Father honour'd him: and on her Breast,
With ravish'd sense in her Embraces prest,
He lay transported, fancy-full and blest.
Horace's lofty Genius boldlier rear'd
His manly head, and through all Nature steer'd;
Her richest Pleasures in his Verse refin'd,
And wrought 'em to the relish of the Mind.
He lasht with a true Poet's fearless Rage
The Villanies and Follies of the Age.
Therefore Mœcenas that great Fav'rite rais'd
Him high, and by him was he highly prais'd.
Our Shakespear wrote too in an Age as blest,
The happiest Poet of his time and best.
A gracious Prince's Favour chear'd his Muse,
A constant Favour he ne'r fear'd to lose.
Therefore he wrote with Fancy unconfin'd,
And Thoughts that were Immortal as his Mind.
And from the Crop of his luxuriant Pen
E're since succeeding Poets humbly glean.
Though much the most unworthy of the Throng,
Our this-day's Poet fears h' has done him wrong.
Like greedy Beggars that steal Sheaves away,
You'll find h' has rifled him of half a Play.
Most beautifull, amazing, and Divine.
To such low Shifts of late are Poets worn,
Whilst we both Wit's and Cæsar's Absence mourn.
Oh! when will He and Poetry return?
When shall we there again behold him sit
'Midst shining Boxes and a Courtly Pit,
The Lord of Hearts, and President of Wit?
When that blest Day (quick may it come) appears,
His Cares once banisht, and his Nation's Fears,
The joyfull Muses on their Hills shall sing
Triumphant Songs of Britain's happy King.
Plenty and Peace shall flourish in our Isle,
And all things like the English Beauty smile.
You Criticks shall forget your nat'ral Spite,
And Poets with unbounded Fancy write.
Ev'n This-day's Poet shall be alter'd quite:
His Thoughts more loftily and freely flow;
And he himself, whilst you his Verse allow,
As much transported as he's humble now.
| The History and Fall of Caius Marius | |