 | The Revenge |  |
PROLOGUE. By a Friend.
Oft
has the Buskin'd Muse, with Action mean,
Debas'd the Glory of the Tragic Scene:
While Puny Villains drest in Purple Pride,
With Crimes obscene the Heav'n-born Rage bely'd.
Debas'd the Glory of the Tragic Scene:
While Puny Villains drest in Purple Pride,
With Crimes obscene the Heav'n-born Rage bely'd.
To her belongs to mourn the Hero's Fate,
To trace the Errors of the Wise and Great;
To mark th'Excess of Passions too refin'd,
And paint the Tumults of a Godlike Mind.
Where mix'd with Rage, exalted Thoughts combine,
And darkest Deeds with beauteous Colours shine.
To trace the Errors of the Wise and Great;
To mark th'Excess of Passions too refin'd,
And paint the Tumults of a Godlike Mind.
Where mix'd with Rage, exalted Thoughts combine,
And darkest Deeds with beauteous Colours shine.
Such Lights and Shades in a well-mingl'd Draught,
By curious Touch of artful Pencils wrought,
With soft Deceit amuse the doubtful Eye,
Pleas'd with the Conflict of the various Dye.
By curious Touch of artful Pencils wrought,
With soft Deceit amuse the doubtful Eye,
Pleas'd with the Conflict of the various Dye.
Thus thro' the following Scenes with sweet Surprize,
Virtue and Guilt in dread Confusion rise,
And Love, and Hate, at once, and Grief and Joy,
Pity, and Rage their mingl'd Force employ.
Virtue and Guilt in dread Confusion rise,
And Love, and Hate, at once, and Grief and Joy,
Pity, and Rage their mingl'd Force employ.
Here the soft Virgin sees with secret Shame,
Her Charms excell'd by Friendship's purer Flame,
Forc'd with reluctant Virtue to approve,
The generous Heroe who rejects her Love.
Her Charms excell'd by Friendship's purer Flame,
Forc'd with reluctant Virtue to approve,
The generous Heroe who rejects her Love.
Behold him There with gloomy Passions stain'd,
A Wife suspected, and an injur'd Friend;
Yet such the Toil where Innocence is caught,
That rash Suspicion seems without a Fault.
We dread a while lest Beauty shou'd succeed,
And almost wish ev'n Virtue's self may bleed.
A Wife suspected, and an injur'd Friend;
Yet such the Toil where Innocence is caught,
That rash Suspicion seems without a Fault.
And almost wish ev'n Virtue's self may bleed.
Mark well the black Revenge, the cruel Guile,
The Traytor-Fiend trampling the lovely Spoil
Of Beauty, Truth, and Innocence opprest,
Then let the Rage of Furies Fire your Breast.
The Traytor-Fiend trampling the lovely Spoil
Of Beauty, Truth, and Innocence opprest,
Then let the Rage of Furies Fire your Breast.
Yet may his mighty Wrongs, his Just Disdain,
His bleeding Country, his lov'd Father slain,
His Martial Pride your Admiration raise,
And crown him with Involuntary Praise.
His bleeding Country, his lov'd Father slain,
His Martial Pride your Admiration raise,
And crown him with Involuntary Praise.
| The Revenge | |