 | Mutius Scaevola ; or, The Roman Patriot |  |
vii
PROLOGUE.
WRITTEN BY MR. FELTHAM.
OUR Bard this night, a foe to German rule,
Erects his fabric on the ancient school:
He courts ye not with pantomimic show,
But wou'd your souls inspire with patriot glow:
He wou'd not sorrow's liquid gem controul,
But nerve the Briton with a Roman soul.
He speaks of Freedom, and that country's laws,
Which Europe oft has echo'd with applause;
Whose arms maintain'd their gods, their rights, and land,
And boldly tam'd a proud invading band.
The hero of our play, a Roman youth,
Whose god was Virtue, and whose leader Truth,
Whose soul, despising death, dar'd still be free,
And ventur'd life—to save Rome's liberty.
Yes! Mutius, burning with heroic zeal,
Made Love subservient to the public weal:
Fled e'en from her who own'd his fondest praise,
To reap in Honor's field th'immortal bays.
Erects his fabric on the ancient school:
He courts ye not with pantomimic show,
But wou'd your souls inspire with patriot glow:
He wou'd not sorrow's liquid gem controul,
But nerve the Briton with a Roman soul.
He speaks of Freedom, and that country's laws,
Which Europe oft has echo'd with applause;
Whose arms maintain'd their gods, their rights, and land,
And boldly tam'd a proud invading band.
The hero of our play, a Roman youth,
Whose god was Virtue, and whose leader Truth,
Whose soul, despising death, dar'd still be free,
And ventur'd life—to save Rome's liberty.
Yes! Mutius, burning with heroic zeal,
Made Love subservient to the public weal:
Fled e'en from her who own'd his fondest praise,
To reap in Honor's field th'immortal bays.
The stage of old was form'd to rouse the sire,
And virtue in each gazer's breast inspire:
Immoral acts, however gloss'd, were seen,
As syrens are, not trusted by their mien.
The mask torn off, the hideous offspring shown,
Was instant banish'd 'mid the general groan.
'Tis practice that inures to deeds of shame;
Be ours the task to gain the patriot's name:
Let Roman virtues grace the British breast,
Let Britons dying wear the Roman crest.
Awake, my countrymen! dispel the dream,
Nor longer seek delight from Folly's theme;
Correct the stage, that so each scene may pass,
As Virtue's self, reflected in a glass.
So shall each British youth with ardor burn,
And twine victorious wreaths around his urn:
So shall each virgin by her actions prove,
That magnanimity engenders love.—
Be you the arbiters; and if to-night
The theme of virtue shoud enchant your sight,
Usurp that pow'r which you alone possess:
Let Thespians once more charm in virtue's dress;
Let Mutius' bold example lead the way,
And fire each Briton with his godlike ray;
That burning with the love of Freedom's cause,
Britons wou'd die to save their country's laws.
And virtue in each gazer's breast inspire:
Immoral acts, however gloss'd, were seen,
As syrens are, not trusted by their mien.
The mask torn off, the hideous offspring shown,
Was instant banish'd 'mid the general groan.
'Tis practice that inures to deeds of shame;
Be ours the task to gain the patriot's name:
Let Roman virtues grace the British breast,
Let Britons dying wear the Roman crest.
Awake, my countrymen! dispel the dream,
Nor longer seek delight from Folly's theme;
Correct the stage, that so each scene may pass,
As Virtue's self, reflected in a glass.
viii
And twine victorious wreaths around his urn:
So shall each virgin by her actions prove,
That magnanimity engenders love.—
Be you the arbiters; and if to-night
The theme of virtue shoud enchant your sight,
Usurp that pow'r which you alone possess:
Let Thespians once more charm in virtue's dress;
Let Mutius' bold example lead the way,
And fire each Briton with his godlike ray;
That burning with the love of Freedom's cause,
Britons wou'd die to save their country's laws.
| Mutius Scaevola ; or, The Roman Patriot | |