Prologue to Columbus
PERFORMED AT COVENT-GARDEN , 1792.
SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN .
When fam'd Columbus nobly dar'd to brave
The untried perils of the Western wave,
Ten thousand dangers in his passage lay;
Dark was his night, and dreary was his day!
The rude companions of his bold design,
Fatigued with toil, against their chief combine:
When sudden, bursting on the astonish'd view!
A world discover'd prov'd his judgment true. —
Yet black ingratitude, the great man's fate!
Pursued Columbus with envenom'd hate;
But souls like his, a base degenerate race
Might meanly persecute, but not disgrace;
The noble mind its energy maintains,
In spite of dungeons, tyranny, and chains!
The sons of Europe found a guileless race,
No fraud was veil'd beneath the smiling face;
Their manners mild, benevolent, and kind,
Pourtray'd the cloudless shunshine of the mind:
Bless'd in their prince's patriarchal reign,
Whose pow'r relieved, but ne'er inflicted pain;
Their placid lives no fancied evils knew,
Their joys were many, and their wants were few.
One custom with their virtues ill agreed,
Which made humanity with anguish bleed:
Compell'd at superstition's shrine to bow,
The hapless victims of a cruel vow!
Their sweetest maids were often doom'd to prove
No joy in friendship, nor no bliss in love!
Yet love, and nature cannot be suppress'd,
The sigh will heave, and palpitate the breast!
For spite of vows which Heaven's wise laws disown,
Love sits triumphant on the heart, his throne!
And breaks those fetters bigots would impose,
To aggravate the sense of human woes.
The rigid laws of time, and place, our bard,
In this night's drama, ventures to discard:
In here he errs, he errs with him whose name
Stands, without rival, on the rolls of fame!
Him, whom the passions own, with one accord,
Their great dictator, and despotic lord!
Who, plac'd aloft on inspiration's throne,
Made fancy's magic kingdom all his own,
Burst from the trammels that his muse confin'd,
And pour'd the wealth of his exhaustless mind!
Though Shakspeare's flight no mortal shall pursue,
Columbus' story, patronized by you,
Will yield an off'ring grateful to his dust,
A British laurel on a hero's bust!
SPOKEN BY MR. HOLMAN .
When fam'd Columbus nobly dar'd to brave
The untried perils of the Western wave,
Ten thousand dangers in his passage lay;
Dark was his night, and dreary was his day!
The rude companions of his bold design,
Fatigued with toil, against their chief combine:
When sudden, bursting on the astonish'd view!
A world discover'd prov'd his judgment true. —
Yet black ingratitude, the great man's fate!
Pursued Columbus with envenom'd hate;
But souls like his, a base degenerate race
Might meanly persecute, but not disgrace;
The noble mind its energy maintains,
In spite of dungeons, tyranny, and chains!
The sons of Europe found a guileless race,
No fraud was veil'd beneath the smiling face;
Their manners mild, benevolent, and kind,
Pourtray'd the cloudless shunshine of the mind:
Bless'd in their prince's patriarchal reign,
Whose pow'r relieved, but ne'er inflicted pain;
Their placid lives no fancied evils knew,
Their joys were many, and their wants were few.
One custom with their virtues ill agreed,
Which made humanity with anguish bleed:
Compell'd at superstition's shrine to bow,
The hapless victims of a cruel vow!
Their sweetest maids were often doom'd to prove
No joy in friendship, nor no bliss in love!
Yet love, and nature cannot be suppress'd,
The sigh will heave, and palpitate the breast!
For spite of vows which Heaven's wise laws disown,
Love sits triumphant on the heart, his throne!
And breaks those fetters bigots would impose,
To aggravate the sense of human woes.
The rigid laws of time, and place, our bard,
In this night's drama, ventures to discard:
In here he errs, he errs with him whose name
Stands, without rival, on the rolls of fame!
Him, whom the passions own, with one accord,
Their great dictator, and despotic lord!
Who, plac'd aloft on inspiration's throne,
Made fancy's magic kingdom all his own,
Burst from the trammels that his muse confin'd,
And pour'd the wealth of his exhaustless mind!
Though Shakspeare's flight no mortal shall pursue,
Columbus' story, patronized by you,
Will yield an off'ring grateful to his dust,
A British laurel on a hero's bust!
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