PROLOGUE To the Translation of ATHALIAH, A TRAGEDY

The scenes which Racine drew, bold, tender, chaste, Too full of nature, not to meet your taste, We now prepare—we strive to make your own, The classic wealth of France—too long unknown! This gold of Gaul coin'd in Columbia's mint, 'Tis your's to fix the current value in't.

E'ER with these themes we trespass on your time, Themes moral, novel, beauteous, and sublime: I come to plead the buskin'd muse's cause, To claim your candor, not to bribe applause. If a well-regulated stage can teach The noblest maxims, in the purest speech— If we, the public's servants, virtue's friends, Attempt, by honest means, those honest ends— Then let Columbia's voice reward our toil; On us her sages and her daughters smile!

ATTEND, while first we bring upon our stage, A sacred drama from the sacred page; A drama, which has oft, on Gallic ground, (To kings a lesson!) with applause been crown'd. Whate'er can please from characters that live, Whate'er of worth pure sentiment can give, The mighty master to his scenes imparts, To charm your ears and captivate your hearts, To fill the melting eye with virtue's tear, And make you learn to practise what you hear. If haply our best efforts should avail, To add due int'rest to this well-told tale; Here will ye find instruction with delight, And say, when done, "We have not lost a night."

ENCOURAG'D by your smiles, on virtue's side, In such a cause, we feel a gen'rous pride: Here shall no muse attempt by words unchaste, Or wanton scenes, to soothe fastidious taste; Nor (for just sentiments can reach your hearts) To croud this house by meretricious arts— Call'd by far nobler pow'rs, here crowds shall throng, Call'd by the pow'rs of genius and of song.

HAIL, thou young nation—blest in mental charms, In taste, arts, science, government and arms! Rais'd to new life, the boast of ev'ry age, Long shall thy infant deeds adorn our stage; Deeds of immortal fame, that grac'd our land! Or in the senate, or the warrior band! Fir'd with the prospect of thy growing fame, My breast enkindles with the patriot flame; Haste, haste, ye sons of song, call glory forth, And dare display your great compatriots' worth; Thence future ages will not view unmov'd, What ADAMS, JAY, and WASHINGTON approv'd!