University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE, By a Friend.

From the black Scene of a late guilty Year,
Ill may it seem to be invited here,
To see imaginary Woes display'd,
When half the Nation is a Victim made,
And to a real Tragedy betray'd.
The Time has been, when to our Stage's Fame,
The gen'rous Briton for Improvement came,
T'employ his virtuous Griefs, when Worth complains,
And recompence with Tears the Poet's Pains:
Whilst tott'ring States, and violated Laws
Warm'd his resenting Heart in Freedom's Cause,
How was he taught, while other Empires groan,
To bless the firmer Basis of his own?
Pass we the next Reflection by—nor dare
To tell ourselves, we're alter'd as we are;
Our once extensive Tide of Pity's lost,
Our Sorrows only to ourselves engross'd;
That on the Stage no Tragick Horrors rise,
But call our own Afflictions in our Eyes:
No Trust-Betrayers sign their Country's Doom,
But strait our Wrongs cry out, Those Villains are at home.
Grant the sad Truth, sure Britain ne'er can bear
To learn th'unhappy Lesson of Despair;
Spite of the Tools of one detected Cheat,
Can fix a joyful Trust in Patriots yet,
Who will repair the Breach our Fortunes stood,
And search with Roman Hearts for English Good.
Secure of this, let languish'd Arts no more
Curse this unkind uncultivated Shore;
Learn from our Scenes just Morals once again,
Nor let the starving Muses toil in vain.