PROLOGUE.

INTENDED FOR A DRAMATIC PIECE OF KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.

H for a voice like thunder, and a tongue

To drown the throat of war! When the

senses

Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness,
Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressed
Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?
When the whirlwind of fury comes from the throne
Of God, when the frowns of His countenance
Drive the nations together, who can stand?
When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
And sails rejoicing in the flood of death ;
When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
And fiends of hell rejoice upon the slain,

Oh who can stand? Oh who hath caused this?
Oh who can answer at the throne of God?
The Kings and Nobles of the land have done it!
Hear it not, Heaven, thy ministers have done it!

J

PROLOGUE TO KING JOHN.

USTICE hath heaved a sword to plunge in
Albion's breast;

For Albion's sins are crimson-dyed,

And the red scourge follows her desolate sons.
Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise,

When Tyranny hath stained fair Albion's breast
With her own children's gore.

Round his majestic feet deep thunders roll;

Each heart does tremble, and each knee grows

slack.

[war, The stars of heaven tremble; the roaring voice of The trumpet, calls to battle. Brother in brother's blood

Must bathe, rivers of death. O land most hapless! O beauteous island, how forsaken!

Weep from thy silver fountains, weep from thy gentle rivers!

The angel of the island weeps ;

The widowed virgins weep beneath thy shades.
Thy aged fathers gird themselves for war;

The sucking infant lives, to die in battle ;
The weeping mother feeds him for the slaughter.
The husbandman doth leave his bending harvest.
Blood cries afar! The land doth sow itself!
The glittering youth of courts must gleam in arms;
The aged senators their ancient swords assume;
The trembling sinews of old age must work
The work of death against their progeny.

For Tyranny hath stretched his purple arm,

And "Blood!" he cries: "The chariots and the

horses,

The noise of shout, and dreadful thunder of the battle heard afar!"

Beware, O proud! thou shalt be humbled;
Thy cruel brow, thine iron heart is smitten,
Though lingering Fate is slow. O yet may Albion
Smile again, and stretch her peaceful arms,
And raise her golden head exultingly!
Her citizens shall throng about her gates,
Her mariners shall sing upon the sea,
And myriads shall to her temples crowd!
Her sons shall joy as in the morning—
Her daughters sing as to the rising year!

I

PIPING down the valleys wild,

Piping songs of pleasant glee,

On a cloud I saw a child,

And he laughing said to me:

"Pipe a song about a Lamb!"

So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again ;" So I piped: he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe ;

Sing thy songs of happy cheer!"

So I sang the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

'Piper, sit thee down and write

In a book that all may read."

So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child my joy to hear.