Charles The First Historical Tragedy, In Five Acts |
PROLOGUE.
Written and Spoken by Mr. Serle.
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 | Charles The First |  |
PROLOGUE. Written and Spoken by Mr. Serle.
The world's historic glories and the fate
Of kings, and, loftier far, the stern debate
Of passions; greater still, the ocean tide
Of thoughts and principles; events that ride
Upon that mighty flood; lights of the past
That dial-shadows on the future cast,
These Tragedy, wise, solemn, stern, pourtrays
In the Greek verse sublime, in Shakespeare's native lays.
Oh, English Harry! did the battle-field
Of Agincourt so proud a trophy yield
As the high heart, the generous thought which he
Hath shrin'd thee in for all eternity?
Of kings, and, loftier far, the stern debate
Of passions; greater still, the ocean tide
Of thoughts and principles; events that ride
Upon that mighty flood; lights of the past
That dial-shadows on the future cast,
These Tragedy, wise, solemn, stern, pourtrays
In the Greek verse sublime, in Shakespeare's native lays.
Oh, English Harry! did the battle-field
Of Agincourt so proud a trophy yield
As the high heart, the generous thought which he
Hath shrin'd thee in for all eternity?
Man and the truth are our proud Muse's theme:
No witchcraft vision, no light fairy dream
Calls up the spirit of Charles, and bids it pass
As a dim shadow o'er the magic glass;
Even as he was he is, sealing with blood
The right divine of kings; she, whom he wooed
In his few hours of joy and mirth, is here,
And weeps their sufferings in no fancied tear,
A thing whose beauty is fragility,
Wrestling with iron-handed destiny:
And, as though Destiny himself, exprest
In some dark human form, had come to wrest
Sceptres and powers and love and lives from men,
Here, all-controlling, Cromwell stands again.
No witchcraft vision, no light fairy dream
Calls up the spirit of Charles, and bids it pass
As a dim shadow o'er the magic glass;
Even as he was he is, sealing with blood
The right divine of kings; she, whom he wooed
In his few hours of joy and mirth, is here,
And weeps their sufferings in no fancied tear,
A thing whose beauty is fragility,
Wrestling with iron-handed destiny:
And, as though Destiny himself, exprest
In some dark human form, had come to wrest
Sceptres and powers and love and lives from men,
Here, all-controlling, Cromwell stands again.
And can these mighty scenes with trembling hand
Be painted? or in colours such as stand
One moment in the rainbow, soft and fair?
Can curious words these awful themes declare?
No: firm the hand and bold must be the pen
That wields the passions of those fearful men
Whose bold hypocrisy dar'd Heaven and Hell:
Even as they spoke, their speech the Muse shall tell;
Poor pigmy fear this story must disgrace,
The Titan warrings of a giant race.
Be painted? or in colours such as stand
One moment in the rainbow, soft and fair?
Can curious words these awful themes declare?
No: firm the hand and bold must be the pen
That wields the passions of those fearful men
Whose bold hypocrisy dar'd Heaven and Hell:
Even as they spoke, their speech the Muse shall tell;
Poor pigmy fear this story must disgrace,
The Titan warrings of a giant race.
| Charles The First | |