546 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1812. 



Perhaps your hearts, when years have glided by. 



And past emotions wake a fleeting sigh, 



May think on her, whose lips have pour'd so long 



The charmed sorrows of your Shakspeare's song ; — 



On her, who, parting to return no more. 



Is now the mourner she but seemed before. — 



Herself subdued, resigns the melting spell. 



And breathes, with swelling heart, her long, her last farewell ! ! 



ADDRESS 



ON THE 



OPENING OF DRURY-LANE THEATRE. 

 Written by Lord Byron. 



IN one dread night our city saw, and sighed. 

 Bowed to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride ; 

 In one short hour beheld the blazing fane, 

 Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease to reign. 



Ye who beheld, sight, admired and mourned. 

 Whose radiance mock'd the ruin it adorn'd ! 

 Through clouds of fire the massy fragments riven, 

 Like Israel's pillar, chace the night from heav'n. 

 Saw the long column of revolving flames 

 Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames ; 

 While thousands throng'd around the burning dome. 

 Shrunk back appalled, and trembled for their home; 

 As glared the volumed blaze, and ghastly shone 

 The skies, with lightnings awful as their own ; 

 Till blackening ashes and the lonely wall 

 Usurped the Muse's realm, and marked her fall ; 

 Say — shall this new nor less aspiring pile. 

 Reared, where once rose the mightiest in our isle. 

 Know the same favour which the former knew, 

 A shrine for Shakspeare — worthy him and you ? 



Yes, it shall be — the magic of that name 

 Defies the scythe of time, the torch of flame. 

 On the same spot still consecrates the scene, 

 And bids the Drama be where she hath been : — 

 This fabric's birth attests the potent spell; 

 Indulge our honest pride, and say. How well f 

 As soars this fane to emulate the last. 

 Oh ! might we draw our omens from the past. 



Some 



