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12https://dickenssearch.com/items/show/12'Prologue'Published in the <em>Morning Advertiser</em> (12 December 1842).Dickens, Charles<em>British Newspapers Archive</em><a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=40&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=1842-12-12">1842-12-12</a><em>British Newspapers Archive,</em> <a href="https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0001427/18421212/018/0003" target="_blank" rel="noopener">https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0001427/18421212/018/0003</a>. Some rights reserved. This work permits non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited.Prologue to John Westland Marston's <em>The Patrician's Daughter</em> (1842)<a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=51&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=Prologue">Prologue</a>1842-12-12_Morning_Advertiser_The_Patricians_Daughter_PrologueDickens, Charles. 'Prologue.' <em>The Patrician's Daughter </em>(1842) by John Westland Marston. <em>The Morning Advertiser </em>(12 December 1842): p.3. <em>Dickens Search.</em> Eds. Emily Bell and Lydia Craig. Accessed [date]. <a href="https://dickenssearch.com/verse/1842-12-12_Morning_Advertiser_Prologue_The_Patricians_Daughter">https://dickenssearch.com/verse/1842-12-12_Morning_Advertiser_Prologue_The_Patricians_Daughter</a>.<a href="https://dickenssearch.com/teibp/dist/content/1842-12-12_Morning_Advertiser_The_Patricians_Daughter_Prologue.xml" target="_blank" rel="noopener">'Prologue.' <em>Morning Advertiser</em> (12 December 1842).</a><a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=94&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=Newspaper">Newspaper</a><a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=93&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=Morning+Advertiser">Morning Advertiser</a>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 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; 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 along 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 Virtues lies, too often, dungeon deep. Awake the Present! what the Past has sown Be in its harvest garner’d, reap’d, and grown! 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.18421212https://dickenssearch.com/files/original/3/Prologue/The_Patrician.png