Maid of unboastful charms, whom white-rob'd Truth, Right onward guiding through the maze of youth, Forbade the Circe, PRAISE, to witch thy soul, And dash'd to earth th' intoxicating bowl; Thee, meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair, Clasp'd to her bosom, with a mother's care; And, as she lov'd thy kindred form to trace, The slow smile wander'd o'er her pallid face, For never yet did mortal voice impart Tones more congenial to the sadden'd heart; Whether to rouse the sympathetic glow, Thou pourest lone Monimia's tale of wo; Or happy clothest, with funereal vest, The bridal loves that wept in Juliet's breast. O'er our chill limbs the thrilling terrors creep, Th' entranc'd passions still their vigils keep; Whilst the deep sighs, responsive to the song, Sound through the silence of the trembling throng. But purer raptures lighten'd from thy face, And spread o'er all thy form a holier grace; When from the daughter's breast the father drew The life he gave, and mix'd the big tear's dew. Nor was it thine th' heroic strain to roll, With mimic feelings, foreign from the soul; Bright in thy parent's eye we mark'd the tear; Methought he said, "Thou art no actress here! A semblance of thyself, the Grecian dame, And _Brunton_ and _Euphrasia_ still the same!" O! soon to seek the city's busier scene, Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene, Till Granta's sons, from all her sacred bow'rs, With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flow'rs, To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow, Enchanting ministress of virtuous wo!
It was on the 17th of October, 1785, that Miss Brunton made her first appearance at Covent Garden theatre in the character of Horatia. The public had anxiously looked for her, and the house was crowded to receive her. The venerable Arthur Murphy wrote a prologue for the occasion, in which he displayed his accustomed delicacy and judgment. It was as follows, and was well spoken by Mr. Holman:
The tragic Muse long saw the British stage Melt with her tears, and kindle with her rage, She saw her scenes with varied passions glow, The tyrant's downfall and the lover's wo; 'Twas then her Garrick--at that well-known name Remembrance wakes, and gives him all his fame; To him great Nature open'd Shakspeare's store, "Here learn," she said, "here learn the sacred lore;" This fancy realiz'd, the bard shall see, And his best commentator breathe in thee. She spoke: her magic powers the actor tried; Then Hamlet moraliz'd and Richard died; The dagger gleam'd before the murderer's eye, And for old Lear each bosom heav'd sigh; Then Romeo drew the sympathetic tear, With him and Cibber Love lay bleeding here. Enchanting Cibber! from that warbling throat No more pale Sorrow pours the liquid note. Her voice suppress'd, and Garrick's genius fled, Melpomene declined her drooping head; She mourn'd their loss, then fled to western skies, And saw at Bath another genius rise. Old Drury's scene the goddess bade her choose, The actress heard, and spake, "herself a muse." From the same nursery, this night appears Another warbler, yet of tender years; As a young bird, as yet unus'd to fly On wings, expanded, through the azure sky, With doubt and fear its first excursion tries And shivers ev'ry feather with surprise; So comes our chorister--the summer's ray, Around her nest, call'd forth a short essay; Now trembling on the brink, with fear she sees This unknown clime, nor dares to trust the breeze. But here, no unfledg'd wing was ever crush'd; Be each rude blast within its cavern hush'd. Soft swelling gales may waft her on her way, Till, eagle-like, she eyes the fount of day: She then may dauntless soar, her tuneful voice May please each ear and bid the grove rejoice.