 | The Honey Moon |  |
PROLOGUE. (Written by a Friend.)
No uniformity in life is found:—
In ev'ry scene varieties abound;
And inconsistency still marks the plan
Of that immortal noble being, Man.
As changeful as the April's morning skies,
His feelings and his sentiments arise;
And nature to his wond'rous frame has given
The mingled elements of earth and heaven.
In diff'rent climes and ages, still we find
The same events for diff'rent ends design'd:
And the same passion diff'rent minds can move
To thoughts of sadness or to acts of love.
In ev'ry scene varieties abound;
And inconsistency still marks the plan
Of that immortal noble being, Man.
As changeful as the April's morning skies,
His feelings and his sentiments arise;
And nature to his wond'rous frame has given
The mingled elements of earth and heaven.
In diff'rent climes and ages, still we find
The same events for diff'rent ends design'd:
And the same passion diff'rent minds can move
To thoughts of sadness or to acts of love.
Hence Genius draws his novel copious store;
And hence the new creations we adore:
And hence the scenic art's undying skill
Submits our feeling to its potent will;
From common accidents and common themes
Awakens rapture and poetic dreams;
And, in the trodden path of life, pursues
Some object cloth'd in Fancy's loveliest hues—
To strengthen nature, or to chasten art,
To mend the manners, or exalt the heart.
And hence the new creations we adore:
And hence the scenic art's undying skill
Submits our feeling to its potent will;
From common accidents and common themes
Awakens rapture and poetic dreams;
And, in the trodden path of life, pursues
Some object cloth'd in Fancy's loveliest hues—
To strengthen nature, or to chasten art,
To mend the manners, or exalt the heart.
So thought the man whom you must judge to-night;
And as he thought, he boldly dar'd to write.
Not new the subject of his first-born rhyme;
But one adorn'd by bards of elder time;—
Bards with the grandest sentiments inspir'd—
Bards that in rapture he has still admir'd;
And tried to imitate, with ardour warm,
And catch the spirit of their pow'rful charm.
With loftiest zeal and anxious hope he sought
To bring to modern times their strength of thought;
And, in their glowing colours, to display
The follies and the virtues of the day.
And as he thought, he boldly dar'd to write.
Not new the subject of his first-born rhyme;
But one adorn'd by bards of elder time;—
Bards with the grandest sentiments inspir'd—
Bards that in rapture he has still admir'd;
And tried to imitate, with ardour warm,
And catch the spirit of their pow'rful charm.
With loftiest zeal and anxious hope he sought
To bring to modern times their strength of thought;
And, in their glowing colours, to display
The follies and the virtues of the day.
Whether his talents have his wish belied,
Your judgment and your candour must decide.
He, though your loftiest plaudits you should raise—
He cannot thank you for the meed of praise:
Rapture he cannot feel, nor fear, nor shame;
Connected with his love of earthly fame,
He is no more.—Yet may his memory live
In all the bloom that early worth can give:
Should you applaud, 'twould check the flowing tear
Of those to whom his name and hopes are dear.
But should you an unfinish'd structure find,
As in its first and rudest forms design'd,
As yet not perfect from the glowing mind,
Then with a gentle voice your censure spread,
And spare the living—spare the sacred Dead!
Your judgment and your candour must decide.
He, though your loftiest plaudits you should raise—
8
Rapture he cannot feel, nor fear, nor shame;
Connected with his love of earthly fame,
He is no more.—Yet may his memory live
In all the bloom that early worth can give:
Should you applaud, 'twould check the flowing tear
Of those to whom his name and hopes are dear.
But should you an unfinish'd structure find,
As in its first and rudest forms design'd,
As yet not perfect from the glowing mind,
Then with a gentle voice your censure spread,
And spare the living—spare the sacred Dead!
| The Honey Moon | |