| Citation |
BPB.760.002
7 Jan 1760:21 (125)
The gentlemen who had proposed to amuse themselves, and
their friends, by the representation of a play, wish the
wise men of Boston to understand that the piece they had
made choice of for that purpose was Mr. Addison's Cato, and
that they are very sorry they should have been suspected to
be promoters of vice, impiety, immorality, &c. And as it
was intended to have been introduced by the original
prologue, a little, alter'd to adapt it to the times, I sent
you a copy thereof to insert in your next paper.
Prologue to Cato, intended to be spoke in the character of
an officer of the army.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold;
For this the tragic muse first trod the stage,
Commanding tears to stream thro' ev'ry age;
Tyrants no more their savage nature kept,
And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
Our author shuns by vulgar springs, to move
The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;
In pitying love, we but our weakness show,
And wild ambition well deserves its woe.
Here tears shall flow from a more generous cause,
Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws:
He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise,
And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes.
Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws,
What Plato thought, and Godlike Cato was:
No common object to your sight displays,
But what with Pleasure, heav'n itself surveys;
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate;
And greatly falling with a falling state;
While Cato gives his little senate[ ] laws,
What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
Who sees him act, But envy's ev'ry deed?
Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Britons attend: virtues like these approve,
If sound at home, they merit more your love;
Marcus of Rome, with martial virtue fir'd,
But faintly shews how Briton's Wolfe expir'd;
The sword of vengeance, he with justice drew,
Conquering he fell, for liberty and you;
Grief, joy, gratitude, together rise;
And fill my breast with pain, with tears my eyes;
--- But peace my heart; Great George triumphant lives,
In him, kind heav'n a conquering Cato gives,
Not pent by foes within a narrow bound,
But spreading conquests all the world around.
Amherst, to lead us on, again prepares,
Peace to restore, and case our sov'reign's cares:
Oh! may success the gallant leader crown,
While you with gratitude his merits own.
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