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Article PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OE ALMEYDA. Page 1 of 1
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Prologue To The Tragedy Oe Almeyda.
PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OE ALMEYDA .
THE Muses long , through many a varying age , With truth and fiction mix'd , have grac'd the Stage ; When weeping Constancy devoted stood , Or patriot Honour seal'd his faith with blood , They bade the deep-ton'd lyre responsive flow , Subl ' mi'd the suff'ring , and diffus'd the woe ; Applauding Greece the numbers lov'd to hear ,
And her stern warriors gave the graceful tear . At length her venal train Corruption led , And , with the Virtues l ' mk'd , the Muses fled ; O'er Albion ' s happy land they p . ius'd awhile , And shed the fav ' ring influence of their smile . Her Henrys , Hotspurs , trod the martial scene , And fir'd to heroes whom they found but men .
Bold Shakspeare pour'd th' invigorating strain , And Rowe , and sweeter Otway , fill'd the train . What , if the modem bard no more aspire , To rival Otway's sweetness , Shakspeare's fire ; What , if no laurel meed his altar claim , His censer boast no heav ' n- enkindled flame ? Yet if beneath the smould'ring vapour shine But one faint glimm ' ring of the spark divine , Ah 1 gently fin the flame ! lest Fashion ' s breath
O ' er the pale promise send the blast of Death . Nor let the wreath Thalia only wear ,. Her Sister Muse deserves so well to share : 'Tis her ' s the gen ' r ' ous feeling to impart , That mends the morals , while it fills the heart ; Her ' s are the energies that best inform ,
The sig hs that animate , and tears that warm . Within the magic sunshine of her eye , Truth , Honour , Loyalty , and Valour lie ; , All the bold virtues that our sires approv'd , And all that Britons boast , or Britons lov'd—¦ Then ' gainst the charm no more your bosoms steel , But own the manly privilege to feel .
Folly and Vice may oft in smiles appear , But bashful Virtue veils her in _ i tear . The broad , loud laugh , the mirth inspiring jest , Humour ' s wild frolic , and gay Fancy ' s feast , Like brilliant bubbles , sparkle o ' er the mind , But burst , and leave no radiant gleam behind ; - While the bright pencil of the Tragic Muse Her sacred rainbow draws o'er chilling dews ; And tho' to air the transient glories run , They give the promise of a golden sun 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Prologue To The Tragedy Oe Almeyda.
PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OE ALMEYDA .
THE Muses long , through many a varying age , With truth and fiction mix'd , have grac'd the Stage ; When weeping Constancy devoted stood , Or patriot Honour seal'd his faith with blood , They bade the deep-ton'd lyre responsive flow , Subl ' mi'd the suff'ring , and diffus'd the woe ; Applauding Greece the numbers lov'd to hear ,
And her stern warriors gave the graceful tear . At length her venal train Corruption led , And , with the Virtues l ' mk'd , the Muses fled ; O'er Albion ' s happy land they p . ius'd awhile , And shed the fav ' ring influence of their smile . Her Henrys , Hotspurs , trod the martial scene , And fir'd to heroes whom they found but men .
Bold Shakspeare pour'd th' invigorating strain , And Rowe , and sweeter Otway , fill'd the train . What , if the modem bard no more aspire , To rival Otway's sweetness , Shakspeare's fire ; What , if no laurel meed his altar claim , His censer boast no heav ' n- enkindled flame ? Yet if beneath the smould'ring vapour shine But one faint glimm ' ring of the spark divine , Ah 1 gently fin the flame ! lest Fashion ' s breath
O ' er the pale promise send the blast of Death . Nor let the wreath Thalia only wear ,. Her Sister Muse deserves so well to share : 'Tis her ' s the gen ' r ' ous feeling to impart , That mends the morals , while it fills the heart ; Her ' s are the energies that best inform ,
The sig hs that animate , and tears that warm . Within the magic sunshine of her eye , Truth , Honour , Loyalty , and Valour lie ; , All the bold virtues that our sires approv'd , And all that Britons boast , or Britons lov'd—¦ Then ' gainst the charm no more your bosoms steel , But own the manly privilege to feel .
Folly and Vice may oft in smiles appear , But bashful Virtue veils her in _ i tear . The broad , loud laugh , the mirth inspiring jest , Humour ' s wild frolic , and gay Fancy ' s feast , Like brilliant bubbles , sparkle o ' er the mind , But burst , and leave no radiant gleam behind ; - While the bright pencil of the Tragic Muse Her sacred rainbow draws o'er chilling dews ; And tho' to air the transient glories run , They give the promise of a golden sun 1