Prologue

Wheree'er Mankind to sacred freedom just, Have soar'd above the groveling Sons of dust, Wheree'er the Arts their fragrant wreathes have wove, Wheree'er the virtues leagued with Patriot love, And bright-eyed Science shed her heavenly dews, There public taste hath nursed the Tragic Muse. And Reason to her generous care consign'd, The noblest, best emotions of the mind.

'Tis her's where human institutes are weak, With firm, unbiast emphasis to speak. With genuine nature link persuasive art, And bind in magic ties the willing heart.

She gives to view the Tyrant's naked breast, What guilt disturbs him, and what fears insest. She with abhorrence marks the Traitor's name, And cloaths Ambition in the robes of Shame. Depresses Cruelty; and rears on high The standard of Imperial liberty.

Is Innocence by rigour stern subdued? She steels her soul with conscious fortitude. Bids her above this fordid earth to rise, And claim alliance with her native skies.

Who then, by partial error led astray, With hasty censure brands the Tragic lay? The glorious strains which polish'd Athens taught, Refining and exalting human thought? When Sages praised the Poet's moral pen? And listening Heroes felt that they were Men?

What true desert is their's, at Virtue's call, Who make th' obedient passions rise or fall! Who in her Temple bid Mankind appear, Breathe the warm sigh, and drop the hallow'd tear! For when by idcot laughter unpossest, She, gentle Goddess, seeks the soften'd breast. From grief itself a nameless pleasure flows, And pity loves to melt at fancied woes.

Not through Antiquity's obscurer ways, To climes remote our British Author strays, Not from th' Italian, or the French translates, Alters old plots, or even imitates. From your own Annals he his story draws, Tradition long hath crown'd it with applause. When the fierce Danes their barbarous inroads plann'd, And pour'd destruction o'er each harrast land. When they besieged these Walls, and hoped to win, Nor knew superior valour dwelt within: Till the bold Citizens assail'd their Host, And drove th' insulting Miscreants from their Coast,

Thus, for their Country, dared your Sires to bleed; Nor have their Sons disgraced the gallant deed. Courageous now, as when they quell'd the Dane, Still faithful, loyal, generous, and humane.