Bertram ; or, The Castle of St. Aldobrand A Tragedy, In Five Acts |
PROLOGUE, Written by J. Hobhouse, Esq.
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 | Bertram ; or, The Castle of St. Aldobrand |  |
PROLOGUE, Written by J. Hobhouse, Esq.
SPOKEN BY MR. RAE.
Taught by your judgment, by your favour led,
The grateful Stage restored her mighty dead.
But not, when wits of ages past revive,
Should living genius therefore cease to thrive.
No! the same liberal zeal that fondly tries
To save the Poet, though the mortal dies,
Impartial welcomes each illustrious birth,
And, justly crowns contemporary worth.
The grateful Stage restored her mighty dead.
But not, when wits of ages past revive,
Should living genius therefore cease to thrive.
No! the same liberal zeal that fondly tries
To save the Poet, though the mortal dies,
Impartial welcomes each illustrious birth,
And, justly crowns contemporary worth.
This night a Bard, who yet, alas! has known
Of conscious merit but the pangs alone;
Through dark misfortune's gloom condemned to cope
With baffled effort and with blighted hope,
Still dares to think one friendly voice shall cheer
His sinking soul, and thinks to hail it—here!
Fanned by the breath of praise, his spark of fame
Still, still may glow, and burst into a flame.
Of conscious merit but the pangs alone;
Through dark misfortune's gloom condemned to cope
With baffled effort and with blighted hope,
Still dares to think one friendly voice shall cheer
His sinking soul, and thinks to hail it—here!
Fanned by the breath of praise, his spark of fame
Still, still may glow, and burst into a flame.
Nor yet let British candour mock the toil
That rear'd the laurel on our sister soil;
That soil to Fancy's gay luxuriance kind,
That soil which teems with each aspiring mind,
Rich in the fruits of glory's ripening sun—
Nurse of the brave—the land of Wellington.
That rear'd the laurel on our sister soil;
That soil to Fancy's gay luxuriance kind,
That soil which teems with each aspiring mind,
Rich in the fruits of glory's ripening sun—
Nurse of the brave—the land of Wellington.
Here, too, this night—another candidate,
Aspires to please; and trembles for her fate;—
And, as the flower whose ever-constant gaze
Turns to her sun and wooes the genial blaze,
To those kind eyes our blushing suppliant bends,
And courts the light that beams from smiling friends;
Oh! calm the conflict of her hopes and fears,
Nor stain her cheek with more than mimic tears.
Aspires to please; and trembles for her fate;—
And, as the flower whose ever-constant gaze
Turns to her sun and wooes the genial blaze,
To those kind eyes our blushing suppliant bends,
And courts the light that beams from smiling friends;
Oh! calm the conflict of her hopes and fears,
Nor stain her cheek with more than mimic tears.
Since, then, alike each bold adventurer sues
The votary, and the handmaid of the Muse,
Think that the same neglect—the same regard,
Must sink, or save, the actress, and the bard.
The votary, and the handmaid of the Muse,
Think that the same neglect—the same regard,
Must sink, or save, the actress, and the bard.
| Bertram ; or, The Castle of St. Aldobrand | |