 | The Temple of Love |  |
PROLOGUE, Spoken by Mr. Booth.
Abroad the British Warrior Conquests gains;At home there's Harmony,—Great ANNA Reigns.
The Consort Politic divinely charms;
Her Wisdom rules, and willing Skill performs.
She gives the Movement with an equal Sway;
The Spheres keep Time, applauded, as they play.
Such Pow'r, Antipathies can reconcile,
And tune the greater World, like her more happy Isle.
In spight of War we thus with Peace are blest,
And Love alone can here alarm the Breast.
Drawn by her Fame, strange Shepherds now repair,
In English Words, with soft Venetian Air,
To sing their Passion, and beguile your Care.
Sure they may please, if Nature set their Song,
For Musick is the Universal Tongue.
Soft are their Hearts, yet innocent their Thoughts;
Then for their Meaning, pray forgive their Faults.
Shou'd here the Notes the Turn of Words controul;
Words are but Bodies, Musick is the Soul.
Tho' in the Voice that double Charm is found,
The Harmony of Sense, and Melody of Sound:
'Tis hard to raise, or save, in ev'ry Place,
With manly English an Italian Grace.
Yet if this bold Attempt you'll kindly spare,
What may not then a grateful Spirit dare,
To strive to please the Gen'rous, and the Fair?
| The Temple of Love | |