The Poems and Verses of Charles Dickens (html) by Charles Dickens & F. G. Kitton (ed)

Author:Charles Dickens & F. G. Kitton (ed) [Dickens, Charles & Kitton, F. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

[Pg 81]

PROLOGUE TO

‘THE PATRICIAN’S DAUGHTER’

(SPOKEN BY MR. MACREADY)

No tale of streaming plumes and harness bright

Dwells on the poet’s maiden harp to-night;

No trumpet’s clamour and no battle’s fire

Breathes in the trembling accents of his lyre;

Enough for him, if in his lowly strain

He wakes one household echo not in vain;

Enough for him, if in his boldest word

The beating heart of MAN be dimly heard.

Its solemn music which, like strains that sigh

Through charmèd gardens, all who hearing die;

Its solemn music he does not pursue

To distant ages out of human view;

[Pg 82]Nor listen to its wild and mournful chime

In the dead caverns on the shore of Time;

But musing with a calm and steady gaze

Before the crackling flames of living days,

He hears it whisper through the busy roar

Of what shall be and what has been before.

Awake the Present! Shall no scene display

The tragic passion of the passing day?

Is it with Man, as with some meaner things,

That out of death his single purpose springs?

Can his eventful life no moral teach

Until he be, for aye, beyond its reach?

Obscurely shall he suffer, act, and fade,

Dubb’d noble only by the sexton’s spade?

Awake the Present! Though the steel-clad age

Find life alone within its storied page,

Iron is worn, at heart, by many still—

The tyrant Custom binds the serf-like will;

If the sharp rack, and screw, and chain be gone,

These later days have tortures of their own;

The guiltless writhe, while Guilt is stretch’d in sleep,

And Virtue lies, too often, dungeon deep.

Awake the Present! what the Past has sown

Be in its harvest garner’d, reap’d, and grown!

[Pg 83]

How pride breeds pride, and wrong engenders wrong,

Read in the volume Truth has held so long,

Assured that where life’s flowers freshest blow,

The sharpest thorns and keenest briars grow,

How social usage has the pow’r to change

Good thoughts to evil; in its highest range

To cramp the noble soul, and turn to ruth

The kindling impulse of our glorious youth,

Crushing the spirit in its house of clay,

Learn from the lessons of the present day.

Not light its import and not poor its mien;

Yourselves the actors, and your homes the scene.

[Pg 84]

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