 | Agis |  |
PROLOGUE, Written by a Friend.
Spoken by Mr. Garrick.
If
in these days of luxury and ease,
A tale from Sparta's rigid state can please;
If patriot plans a British breast can warm;
If Kings asserting liberty can charm;
If Virtue still a grateful aspect wear;
Check not at Agis' fall the gen'rous tear.
A tale from Sparta's rigid state can please;
If patriot plans a British breast can warm;
If Kings asserting liberty can charm;
If Virtue still a grateful aspect wear;
Check not at Agis' fall the gen'rous tear.
He view'd his subjects with a parent's love;
With zeal to save a sinking people strove;
Strove their chang'd hearts with glory to inflame;
To mend their Morals; and restore their name:
Till Faction rose with Murder at her side;
Then mourn'd his country; persever'd; and died.
With zeal to save a sinking people strove;
Strove their chang'd hearts with glory to inflame;
To mend their Morals; and restore their name:
Till Faction rose with Murder at her side;
Then mourn'd his country; persever'd; and died.
That country once for virtue was rever'd;
Admir'd by Greece; by haughty Asia fear'd.
Then Citizens and Soldiers were the same;
And soldiers heroes; for their wealth was fame.
Then for the Brave the Fair reserv'd her charms;
And scorn'd to clasp a coward in her arms.
The trumpet call'd; she seiz'd the sword and shield;
Array'd in haste her husband for the field;
And sighing whisper'd in a fond embrace,
“Remember!—death is better than disgrace.
The widow'd Mother shew'd her parting son
The race of glory which his sire had run.
“My son, thy flight alone. I shall deplore.
“Return victorious!—or return no more!”
Admir'd by Greece; by haughty Asia fear'd.
Then Citizens and Soldiers were the same;
And soldiers heroes; for their wealth was fame.
Then for the Brave the Fair reserv'd her charms;
And scorn'd to clasp a coward in her arms.
The trumpet call'd; she seiz'd the sword and shield;
Array'd in haste her husband for the field;
And sighing whisper'd in a fond embrace,
“Remember!—death is better than disgrace.
The widow'd Mother shew'd her parting son
The race of glory which his sire had run.
“My son, thy flight alone. I shall deplore.
“Return victorious!—or return no more!”
While Beauty thus with patriot, zeal combin'd,
And round the laurel'd head her myrtle twin'd;
Whilst all confest the Virtuous were the Great;
Fame, Valor, Conquest, grac'd the Spartan state.
Her Pow'r congenial with her Virtue grew,
And freedom's Banner o'er her Phalanx flew;
But soon as Virtue dropt her sick'ning head,
Fame, Valor, Conquest, Pow'r and Freedom fled.
And round the laurel'd head her myrtle twin'd;
Whilst all confest the Virtuous were the Great;
Fame, Valor, Conquest, grac'd the Spartan state.
And freedom's Banner o'er her Phalanx flew;
But soon as Virtue dropt her sick'ning head,
Fame, Valor, Conquest, Pow'r and Freedom fled.
May this sad scene improve each Briton's heart!
Rouse him with warmth to act a Briton's part!
Prompt him with Sparta's noblest sons to vie;
To live in glory; and in freedom die!
Rouse him with warmth to act a Briton's part!
Prompt him with Sparta's noblest sons to vie;
To live in glory; and in freedom die!
| Agis | |