Classic Poem

PROLOGUE, EPILOGUE, AND SONG FROM THE INDIAN QUEEN

PROLOGUE

B OY . Wake, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease,
And fly together with our country's peace;
No more must we sleep under plantain shade,
Which neither heat could pierce, nor cold invade;
Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
And op'ning buds drive falling fruits away.
Q UEVIRA . Why should men quarrel here, where all possess
As much as they can hope for by success?
None can have most, where nature is so kind
As to exceed man's use, tho' not his mind,
B OY . By ancient prophecies we have been told,
Our world shall be subdued by one more old;
And, see, that world already's hither come.
Q UE . If these be they, we welcome then our doom.
Their looks are such that mercy flows from thence,
More gentle than our native innocence.
B OY . Why should we then fear these are enemies,
That rather seem to us like deities?
Q UE . By their protection let us beg to live;
They came not here to conquer, but forgive.
If so, your goodness may your pow'r express,
And we shall judge both best bYour success.

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA

You see what shifts we are inforc'd to try,
To help out wit with some variety;
Shows may be found that never yet were seen,
'T is hard to find such wit as ne'er has been.
You have seen all that this old world could do,
We therefore try the fortune of the new,
And hope it is below your aim to hit
At untaught nature with your practic'd wit:
Our naked Indians, then, when wits appear,
Would as soon choose to have the Spaniards here.
'T is true, y' have marks enough, the plot, the show,
The poet's scenes, nay, more, the painter's too;
If all this fail, considering the cost,
'T is a true voyage to the Indies lost:
But if you smile on all, then these designs,
Like the imperfect treasure of our minds,
Will pass for current wheresoe'er they go,
When to your bounteous hands their stamps they owe.

SONG IS SUPPOS'D SUNG BY AERIAL SPIRITS

P OOR mortals that are clogg'd with earth below
Sink under love and care,
While we that dwell in air
Such heavy passions never know.
Why then should mortals be
Unwilling to be free
From blood, that sullen cloud
Which shining souls does shroud?
Then they 'll shew bright,
And like us light,
When leaving bodies with their care,
They slide to us and air.