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EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MRS PRITCHARD.

A KING in bloom of youth, for freedom die!

Our bard, though bold, durst not have soar'd so high. This is no credulous admiring age;

But sacred, sure, the faith of Plutarch's page.

In simple style that ancient sage relates
The tale of Sparta, chief of Grecian states:
Eight hundred years it flourish'd, great in arms,
On dangers rose, and grew amidst alarms.
Of Sparta's triumph you have heard the cause,
More strong, more noble than Lycurgus' laws;
How Spartan dames, by glory's charms inspired,
The son, the lover, and the husband fired.
Ye fair of Britain's isle, which justly claims
The Grecian title, land of lovely dames,
In Britain's cause, exert your matchless charms,
And rouse your lovers to the love of arms.
Hid, not extinct, the spark of valour lies;
Your breath shall raise it flaming to the skies.
Now Mars his bloody banner hangs in air,
And bids Britannia's sons for war prepare:
Let each loved maid, each mother bring the shield,
And arm their country's champions for the field.

Arm'd and inflamed, each British breast shall burn,
No youth unlaurel'd shall to you return.
Then shall we cease to exult at trophies won,
In glory's field, by heroes-not our own.
France yet shall tremble at the British sword,
And dread the vengeance of her ancient lord.

DOUGLAS;

A

TRAGEDY.

Non ego sum vates, sed prisci conscius ævi.

PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN AT LONDON.

In ancient times, when Britain's trade was arms,
And the loved music of her youth, alarms;
A god-like race sustain'd fair England's fame :
Who has not heard of gallant Percy's name?
Ay, and of Douglas? Such illustrious foes
In rival Rome and Carthage never rose !
From age to age bright shone the British fire,
And every hero was a hero's sire.

When powerful fate decreed one warrior's doom,
Up sprung the phoenix from his parent's tomb.
But whilst these generous rivals fought and fell,
These generous rivals loved each other well:
Though many a bloody field was lost and won,
Nothing in hate, in honour all was done.
When Percy, wrong'd, defied his prince or peers,
First came the Douglas with his Scottish spears;
And, when proud Douglas made his king his foe,
For Douglas, Percy bent his English bow.
Expell'd their native homes by adverse fate,
They knock'd alternate at each other's gate :
Then blazed the castle, at the midnight hour,
For him whose arms had shook its firmest tower.

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