PROLOGUE
TO
THE
ENGLISHMAN
AT
BOURDEAUX
.
Performed
since
the
conclusion
of
the
peace
,
with
universal
applause
,
at
PARIS
.
TOO
long
by
some
fatality
misled
,
From
pride
resulting
,
or
from
folly
bred
;
Each
clime
to
all
the
virtues
lays
a
claim
,
And
soars
,
self-flatter'd
,
to
the
top
of
fame
;
Confines
each
merit
to
itself
alone
,
Or
thinks
no
other
equal
to
its
own
:
E'en
the
pale
Russian
shiv'ring
as
he
lies
,
Beneath
the
horror
of
his
bitterest
skies
,
While
the
loud
tempest
rattles
o'er
his
head
,
Or
bursts
all
dreadful
on
his
tott'ring
shed
,
Hugs
a
soft
something
closely
to
his
soul
,
That
soothes
the
cutting
sharpness
of
the
pole
,
Elates
his
bosom
with
a
conscious
pride
,
And
smiles
contempt
on
all
the
world
beside
.
'Tis
your's
,
O
France
,
the
earliest
to
unbind
This
more
than
Gordian
manacle
of
mind
!
To-night
we
bid
your
justice
may
be
shewn
To
foreign
virtues
equal
with
your
own
;
Think
,
nobly
think
,
when
nature
first
was
born
,
And
fair
creation
kindled
into
morn
,
The
world
was
but
one
family
,
one
band
,
Which
glow'd
all
grateful
to
the
heavenly
hand
;
Thro'
ev'ry
breast
a
social
impulse
ran
,
Link'd
beast
to
beast
,
and
fasten'd
man
to
man
,
And
the
sole
diff'rence
which
he
heard
,
or
had
,
Dwelt
in
the
simple
phrases
,
"
good
or
bad
.
"
Then
scorn
to
give
such
partial
feelings
birth
,
As
claim
but
one
poor
competence
of
earth
;
Be
more
than
French
;
on
ev'ry
country
call
,
And
rise
,
exalted
,
citizens
of
all
.