 | Zingis |  |
PROLOGUE, By Mr. HOME, Spoken by Mr. HOLLAND.
Too much the Greek and Roman chiefs engage
The Muses care,—they languish on our Stage;
The Modern Bard, struck with the vast applause
Of ancient masters, like the painter draws
From models only;—can such copies charm
The heart, or like the glow of nature warm?
The Muses care,—they languish on our Stage;
The Modern Bard, struck with the vast applause
Of ancient masters, like the painter draws
From models only;—can such copies charm
The heart, or like the glow of nature warm?
To fill the scene, to night our Author brings
Originals at least,—warriors and kings—
Heroes, who like their gems, unpolish'd shine.
The mighty fathers of the Tartar line;
Greater than those, whom Classic pages boast,
If those are greatest, who have conquer'd most.
Originals at least,—warriors and kings—
Heroes, who like their gems, unpolish'd shine.
The mighty fathers of the Tartar line;
Greater than those, whom Classic pages boast,
If those are greatest, who have conquer'd most.
Such is the subject—such the Poet's theme,
If a rough Soldier may assume that name;
Who does not offer you from Fancy store,
Manners and men.—On India's burning shore,
In warlike toils, he pass'd his youthful years,
And met the Tartar, in the strife of spears;
But tho' he liv'd amidst the cannons roar,
Thunder like yours he never fac'd before;
Listen indulgent to his artless strain,
Nor let a Soldier, quarter ask in vain.
If a rough Soldier may assume that name;
Who does not offer you from Fancy store,
Manners and men.—On India's burning shore,
In warlike toils, he pass'd his youthful years,
And met the Tartar, in the strife of spears;
But tho' he liv'd amidst the cannons roar,
Thunder like yours he never fac'd before;
Listen indulgent to his artless strain,
Nor let a Soldier, quarter ask in vain.
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