Poems (1828) | Page 6

at Stratford and in London. Intended to be
spoken at
one of the Theatres.
While o'er this pageant of sublunar things
Oblivion spreads her
unrelenting wings,
And sweeps adown her dark unebbing tide
Man,
and his mightiest monuments of pride--
Alone, aloft, immutable,
sublime,
Star-like, ensphered above the track of time,
Great
SHAKSPEARE beams with undiminish'd ray.
His bright creations
sacred from decay,
Like Nature's self, whose living form he drew,

Though still the same, still beautiful and new.
He came, untaught in academic bowers,
A gift to Glory from the
Sylvan powers:
But what keen Sage, with all the science fraught,

By elder bards or later critics taught,
Shall count the cords of his
mellifluous shell,
Span the vast fabric of his fame, and tell
By what
strange arts he bade the structure rise--
On what deep site the strong
foundation lies?
This, why should scholiasts labour to reveal?
We
all can answer it, we all can feel,
Ten thousand sympathies, attesting,
start--
For SHAKSPEARE'S Temple, is the human heart!
Lord of a throne which mortal ne'er shall share--
Despot adored! he
rales and revels there.
Who but has found, where'er his track hath
been,
Through life's oft shifting, multifarious scene,
Still at his side

the genial Bard attend,
His loved companion, counsellor, and friend!
The Thespian Sisters nurtured in the schools
Of Greece and Rome,
and long coerced by rules,
Scarce moved the inmates of their native
hearth
With tiny pathos and with trivial mirth,
Till She, great muse
of daring enterprise,
Delighted ENGLAND! saw her SHAKSPEARE
rise!
Then, first aroused in that appointed hour,
The Tragic Muse confess'd
th' inspiring power;
Sudden before the startled earth she stood,
A
giant spectre, weeping tears and blood;
Guilt shrunk appall'd, Despair
embraced his shroud,
And Terror shriek'd, and Pity sobb'd aloud;--

Then, first Thalia with dilated ken
And quicken'd footstep pierced the
walks of men;
Then Folly blush'd, Vice fled the general hiss,

Delight met Reason with a loving kiss;
At Satire's glance Pride
smooth'd his low'ring crest,
The Graces weaved the dance.--And last
and best
Came Momus down in Falstaff's form to earth.
To make
the world one universe of mirth!
Such Sympathies the glorious Bard endear!
Thus fair he walks in
Man's diurnal sphere.
But when, upborne on bright Invention's wings.

He dares the realms of uncreated things,
Forms more divine, more
dreadful, start to view,
Than ever Hades or Olympus knew.
Round
the dark cauldron, terrible and fell,
The midnight Witches breathe the
songs of hell;
Delighted Ariel wings his fiery way
To whirl the
storm, the wheeling Orbs to stay;
Then bathes in honey-dews, and
sleeps in flowers;
Meanwhile, young Oberon, girt with shadowy
powers,
Pursues o'er Ocean's verge the pale cold Moon,
Or hymns
her, riding in her highest noon.
Thus graced, thus glorified, shall SHAKSPEARE crave
The
Sculptor's skill, the pageant of the grave?
HE needs it not--but
Gratitude demands
This votive offering at his Country's hands.

Haply, e'er now, from blissful bowers on high,
From some Parnassus

of the empyreal sky,
Pleased, o'er this dome the gentle Spirit bends,

Accepts the gift, and hails us as his friends--
Yet smiles, perchance,
to think when envious Time
O'er Bust and Urn shall bid his ivies
climb,
When Palaces and Pyramids shall fall--
HIS PAGE SHALL
TRIUMPH--still surviving all--
'Till Earth itself, "like breath upon the
wind,"
Shall melt away, "nor leave a rack behind!"
IMPROMPTU, TO ORIANA.
ON ATTENDING WITH HER, AS SPONSORS, AT A
CHRISTENING
Lady! who didst--with angel-look and smile,
And the sweet lustre of
those dear, dark eyes,
Gracefully bend before the font of Christ,
In
humble adoration, faith, and prayer!
Oh!--as the infant pledge of
friends beloved
Received from thy pure lips its future name,

Sweetly unconscious look'd the baby-boy!
How beautifully
helpless--and how mild!
--Methought, a seraph spread her shelt'ring
wings
Over the solemn scene; and as the sun,
In its full splendour,
on the altar came,
God's blessing seem'd to sanctify the deed.
TO MY SPANIEL FANNY.
Fanny! were all the world like thee,
How cheerly then this life would
glide,
Dear emblem of Fidelity!
Long may'st thou grace thy
master's side.
Long cheer his hours of solitude,
With watchful eye each wish to
learn,
And anxious speechless gratitude
Hail with delight each short
sojourn.
When sick at heart, thy welcome home
A weary load of grief dispels,

Gladdens with hope the hours to come,
And yet a mournful lesson
tells!

To find thee ever faithful, kind,
My guard by night, my friend by day,

While those in friendship more refined
Have with my fortunes
flown away.
Why bounteous nature hast thou given
To this poor Brute--a boon so
kind
As constancy--bless'd gift of Heaven!
And MAN--to waver
like the wind?
WIDOWED LOVE.[1]
Tell me, chaste spirit! in yon orb of light,
Which seems to wearied
souls an ark of rest,
So calm, so peaceful, so divinely bright--

Solace of broken hearts, the mansion of the bless'd!
Tell me, oh! tell me--shall I meet again
The long lost object of my
only love!
--This hope but mine, death were release from pain;

Angel of mercy! haste, and waft my soul above!
[Footnote 1: Mr. T. Millar has composed sweet music to these lines,
and has been peculiarly fortunate in composing and singing some of the
exquisite Melodies of T.H. Bayly, Esq. of Bath.]
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM
OF THE LADY OF DR.