To the Editors of the Massachusetts Magazine.
Gentlemen,
By inserting in your entertaining Museum the following PROLOGUE TO THE WEST INDIAN, (acted at Gloucester for the benefit of the poor) compiled by CONSTANTIA, and spoken by Doctor Pearson, you will much oblige a friend.
PROLOGUE.
It is presumed that the band of music will continue playing until addressed by the Gentleman who speaks the prologue.
Cease my good friends--the supplicant prologue comes,
Its title introductory assumes,
In all its graces, and its airs array'd,
And, to intreat a patient hearing made.
'Tis true, it pleads no trembling Author's cause,
More central views its rhetorick employs,
To advocate no witling it appears,
Nor Bard bemus'd, its hopes and wishes, shares.
The father of our piece, secure resides,
(And up the steep of fame the adventurer guides)
Is Albion's clime, where merit lifts the head,
Round whose white cliffs, old ocean's waves are spread;
Or else escap'd to some Elysian bow'r,
He prunes the shade, and crops the opening flow'r,
By genial airs, by gales celestial fan'd,
Where genius may its utmost powers expand;
At my rate, superiour to our praise,
He asks to crown his brow no foreign lays.
"No foreign lays" some demi critick cries,
Really to me 'tis matter of surprize,
Our gentlemen should stray so very far,
A feast for Gloucesterians to prepare;
Who in the patriot list have still been seen,
Yielding to none in public zeal, I ween,
Who she our wiggism were so much noted,
That British wrath for our destruction voted,
And gladly would have fired our ramparts down,
In ashes burying our goodly town,
Had not our ready policy contriv'd,
A scheme which most effectually deceiv'd.
Methinks our feelings still should be the same,
Still fond of wafting young Columbia's fame;
And I protest, my judgment would have chose,
Some Heliconian stream which hither flows;
Nor are we stinted--Tyler oft hath try'd,
And southern stages many times supply'd;
While Humphrey's worth demands no common share,
Witness his widow--fresh from Malabar--
And Warren too--what patriot breast but feels,
As the lost hero on retention steals!
Yes, there is magick in a glowing name,
Which can reanimate the latent flame.
And Warren so rever'd, and so renown'd,
Who was with never dying honour crown'd;
That brightening name is once again approv'd,
By ev'ry muse, and every grace belov'd;
In female guise too gen'rous virtue warms,
And this new world by arduous efforts charms.
By Jove I think we're great in every line,
In ev'ry character ordain'd to shine.
Talk of their Fabius, Cincinnatus too,
These Romans sink to nothing in my view,
For Cincinnatus, he was forced to fly,
To shield his virtue in a humbler sky;
While our loved hero all unrivall'd stans,
And, equal poiz'd, his matchless worth expands,
Amid the blaze of day, superiour glows,
Nor its meridian light a foible shows,
Secure upon a precipice he moves,
While we admire, and the vast world approves:
Myriads of clustering heros I could name
Who have advanc'd and have receiv'd their fame,
But they must veil in that great warrior's train,
Who still, in radiant walks, will chief remain;
Besides, the time and place is not so fit,
Tho I can ne'er the glowing theme forget.
Well have you finish'd your eccentric speech,
Or do you aim beyond the heavens to reach?
Yet, hath it not occurr'd to your wise head,
That precept still is by example led.
Whence come your velvets, broadcloths superfine,
Whence are those ornaments which you combine?
Whence are your lady's gauzes, muslins, fans,
Rich silks, and fashions, in their various plans;
Pray tell us, were they manufactur'd here,
And had Old England not the smallest share?
The bishops and commodes--say are they yours,
Or brought from Britain, or the gay Monsieurs?
But pshaw, I hate recriminating strife,
'Tis just for all the world like man and wife.
Waving the subject then--I only say
By way of introduction to the play,
And still solicitous the way to pave,
Actors have talents--or they ought to have,
We thought the piece would suit our various parts,
And felt its merit warm our yielding hearts:
A climax too our efforts have observ'd,
And the West Indian as its height reserv'd,
Scanty of morals was our first essay,
Like spires of grass in Lybia's sandy way,
For black seduction even Worthy own'd,
And but the frost of age the justice son'd!
But virtue here obtains a rapid growth,
Luxuriant honour, and enkindling worth,
Integrity in sober guise array'd,
And blest Hibernia's inborn truth display'd.
The shades are few--they but the luster show,
Of all those beauties which conspicuous grow,
And, my heart leaps to see such goodly rows,
Of sparkling belles, and their attendant beaus,
Smile, we conjure you smile--and stimulate,
To higher essays, those poor wights who wait,
Behind the curtain, eager to begin.
To crush their ardor-were indeed a sin,
They'll entertain, and please you if they can,
It is the ne plus ultra of their plan.
Massachusetts Magazine
March 1791, pp. 181-2
[Notes: the "brightening name" in female guise" by the name of Warren is Mercy Otis Warren.]