%images;]> lchtml-002704 Prologue spoken at amateur theatricals in aid of the Sunderland Orphan Asylum. ...: a machine readable transcription. Lewis Carroll Scrapbook, Library of Congress Selected and converted. American Memory, Library of Congress.

Washington, DC, 2003.

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 2004/05/17
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PROLOGUE

SPOKEN AT AMATEUR THEATRICALS IN AID OF THE SUNDERLAND ORPHAN ASYLUM, Monday, Dec. 22nd, 1862.

Shakespeare hath writ on his immortal page, This famous saying—“All the world's a stage”— A stage, where pass the shifting scenes of life, The calm of happy homes, the din and strife Of fierce battalions meeting on the plain, The many histories of joy and pain, The glittering brightness of youth's opening days, The feeble flicker of his sun's last rays, The deeds of fame that time can never rust, And their sad contrast-honour in the dust. These, and how many more, on every page Of the world's history, make that world their stage.

The curtain rises on that scene most blest, The infant smiling on its mother's breast; And as the play proceeds, midst hopes and fears, She soothes its sorrows, dries its transient tears, Until the baby merges in the boy, And walks alone, his mother's hope and joy. From her he learns all lessons good and wise, And reads of virtue in her gentle eyes, Her sweet example shows him so to run The race, that when it ends, the prize is won. And so in every scene since life began, Until he treads the world's great stage—a man.

But, stay, suppose no mother's influence kind Watches the opening of the infant mind, No prompter ready, when the play begins, To whisper which are virtues, which are sins, No friendly haven, where a bark so frail, May run for shelter in th' impending gale, No loving hands to guide, or words to cheer— The picture's true, alas! tho' sad and drear, Oh, may it wring from each spectator's heart, Pity for those who play the orphan's part.

For them it is that here to-night we plead; There is a shelter in the orphan's need, A kind asylum where the friendless child May find a haven in misfortune wild;— A home, where Charity the want supplies Which to his opening years hard Fate denies.

Then, fellow-actors in the drama grand Which men call life, stretch out a liberal hand, And help these players, who, with weary hearts, Play not as “stars,” but take the minor parts. And when, as now, all fingers point one goal To which the tide of Charity should roll, One tragic scene—oh I let it thither roam, But don't forget that it should start from home,

Let then this cause for which we now appear, Plead for the actors—stay the critic's sneer, Win for our efforts your approval kind, And make you to our many errors blind. Then, when in future years, 'mid changes new, Our memories pass these old times in review, With halting steps, they'll linger in delight Over the pleasant record of to-night.