PROLOGUE.
WRITTENBY JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ.
SPOKEN BY Mr. MURRAY.
POETS have oft’ declared, in doleful ſtrain,
That o’er dramatic tracks they beat in vain,
Hopeleſs that novelty will ſpring to ſight;
For life and nature are exhauſted quite.
Though plaints like theſe have rung from age to age,
Too kind are writers to deſert the ſtage;
And if they, fruitleſs, ſearch for unknown prey,
At leaſt they dreſs old game a novel way;
But ſuch lamentings ſhould be heard no more,
For modern taſte turns Nature out of door;
Who ne’er again her former ſway will boaſt,
Till, to complete her works, ſhe ſtarts a ghoſt.
If ſuch the mode, what can we hope to-night,
Who raſhly dare approach without a ſprite?
No dreadful cavern, and no midnight ſcream,
No roſin flames, nor e’en one flitting gleam.
Nought of the charms ſo potent to invite
The monſtrous charms of terrible delight.
Our preſent theme the German Muſe ſupplies,
But rather aims to ſoften than ſurprife.
Yet, with her woes ſhe ſtrives ſome ſmiles to blend,
Intent as well to cheer as to amend:
On her own native ſoil ſhe knows the art
To charm the fancy, and to touch the heart.
If, then, ſhe mirth and pathos can expreſs,
Though leſs engaging in an Engliſh dreſs,
Let her from Britiſh hearts no peril fear,
But, as a Stranger[1], find a welcome here.
- ↑ Hamlet
