 | Douglas |  |
PROLOGUE. Spoken by Mr. SPARKS.
In
antient times, when Britain's trade was arms,
And the lov'd music of her youth, alarms;
A god-like race sustain'd fair England's fame:
Who has not heard of gallant Piercy's name?
Ay, and of Douglas? Such illustrious foes
In rival Rome and Carthage never rose!
From age to age bright shone the British fire,
And every hero was a hero's sire.
When powerful fate decreed one warrior's doom,
Up sprung the Phœnix from his parent's tomb.
But whilst these generous rivals fought and fell,
Those generous rivals lov'd each other well:
Tho' many a bloody field was lost and won,
Nothing in hate, in honour all was done.
When Piercy wrong'd defy'd his prince or peers,
Fast came the Douglas, with his Scottish spears;
And, when proud Douglas made his King his foe,
For Douglas, Piercy bent his English bow.
Expell'd their native homes by adverse fate,
They knock'd alternate at each other's gate:
Then blaz'd the castle, at the midnight hour,
For him whose arms had shook its firmest tow'r.
And the lov'd music of her youth, alarms;
A god-like race sustain'd fair England's fame:
Who has not heard of gallant Piercy's name?
Ay, and of Douglas? Such illustrious foes
In rival Rome and Carthage never rose!
From age to age bright shone the British fire,
And every hero was a hero's sire.
When powerful fate decreed one warrior's doom,
Up sprung the Phœnix from his parent's tomb.
But whilst these generous rivals fought and fell,
Those generous rivals lov'd each other well:
Tho' many a bloody field was lost and won,
Nothing in hate, in honour all was done.
When Piercy wrong'd defy'd his prince or peers,
Fast came the Douglas, with his Scottish spears;
And, when proud Douglas made his King his foe,
For Douglas, Piercy bent his English bow.
Expell'd their native homes by adverse fate,
They knock'd alternate at each other's gate:
Then blaz'd the castle, at the midnight hour,
For him whose arms had shook its firmest tow'r.
This night a Douglas your protection claims;
A wife! a mother! Pity's softest names:
The story of her woes indulgent hear,
And grant your suppliant all she begs, a tear.
In confidence she begs; and hopes to find
Each English breast, like noble Piercy's, kind.
A wife! a mother! Pity's softest names:
The story of her woes indulgent hear,
And grant your suppliant all she begs, a tear.
In confidence she begs; and hopes to find
Each English breast, like noble Piercy's, kind.
| Douglas | |