 | Constantine |  |
THE PROLOGUE.
O'er
a soft Tale of well imagin'd Woes
The willing Tear with feeble Transport flows;
But when the Muse in her own Griefs appears,
The storied Sorrows of a thousand Years;
A nobler Tribute, than our Tears we pay,
Our Passions hear her, and our Hearts obey.
The willing Tear with feeble Transport flows;
But when the Muse in her own Griefs appears,
The storied Sorrows of a thousand Years;
A nobler Tribute, than our Tears we pay,
Our Passions hear her, and our Hearts obey.
Such Scenes to-night—Oh! for a Muse of Fire,
Great Shakespear, thine, our Author to inspire;
Then fierce Ambition, Guilt, Despair, and Rage,
And frantic Jealousy should shake the Stage;
Tyrants and Slaves her equal Wrath should find,
Her Furies haunt them, and revenge Mankind.
Great Shakespear, thine, our Author to inspire;
Then fierce Ambition, Guilt, Despair, and Rage,
And frantic Jealousy should shake the Stage;
Tyrants and Slaves her equal Wrath should find,
Her Furies haunt them, and revenge Mankind.
But where's the modern Spirit can sustain
The Weight of Greece, or draw the Roman Scene?
Their Heroes seem of some superior State,
Great in their Virtues, in their Vices great;
Here wild Ambition Earth and Heaven defies,
And there—Oh! glorious Fate! the Patriot greatly dies.
The Weight of Greece, or draw the Roman Scene?
Their Heroes seem of some superior State,
Great in their Virtues, in their Vices great;
Here wild Ambition Earth and Heaven defies,
And there—Oh! glorious Fate! the Patriot greatly dies.
Yet if, with modest Hope, our Author aim
At your Applause—for your Applause is Fame,
Let him, to-night, your wonted Candour find,
Oh! be the Critic's Eye a little blind;
And if to You, ye Fair, he pours his Heart,
To your Distresses gives his tenderest Art,
To Beauty, Virtue, and to You he sues,
As you inspir'd—Oh! patronize his Muse.
At your Applause—for your Applause is Fame,
Let him, to-night, your wonted Candour find,
Oh! be the Critic's Eye a little blind;
And if to You, ye Fair, he pours his Heart,
To your Distresses gives his tenderest Art,
To Beauty, Virtue, and to You he sues,
As you inspir'd—Oh! patronize his Muse.
| Constantine | |