PROLOGUE.

By Amos Meredith, Esq;

Near is my Shirt, but nearer is my Skin.

Rules were by Coxcombs made to cramp the Mind By Nature free, unfetter’d, unconfin’d, She mounts a Flame, and flies, astride the Wind.

Through boundless space wings her Celestial Way, And Eagle-ey’d confronts the Source of Day; Criticks begone, avant ye Sons of Clay!

To every Star its Name and Course assign, In narrow Bounds the swelling Tides confine, And teach the Ruler of the Day to shine.

Sluggish the servile Mule sustains the Weight; Wolves bait the Moon because she shines so bright; And Owls are blinded with Excess of Light.

Unchain’d by Art with true Poetick Rage, In Buskins highly rais’d, we tread the Stage; With Fire from Heaven, to thaw the frozen Age.

The God of Number and melodious Strains, Triumphant drives through Empyrean Plains, Impetuous bound the Steeds nor hear the Reins

If Soar-æthereal’s Characters too high, For mean Conception shocks the vulgar Eye, Let filthy Mire accuse the Azure Sky.

Diamonds to Swine are despicable Things, Lost to the Mole the Vernal Verdure Springs, And Adders hiss tho’ Senesino sings.

The Priestess speaks of him that gilds the Skies; Behold he comes, behold the God she cries: And swells, and foams, and rolls her frantick Eyes.

Hark to the Noise a hundred Doors around, Spontaneous jarr, the vaulted Roofs rebound, And Words burst forth with more than mortal Sound.

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