POETRY. 547 



Some hour propitious to our praj'ers, may boast 

 Names such as hallow still the dome we lost. 

 On Drury first your Siddons' thriliino- art 

 O'erwhelm'd the gentlest, stormed the sternest heart ; 

 On Drury, Garrick's latest laurels grew: 

 Here your last tears retiring Roscius drew, 

 Sigh'd his last thanks, and wept his last adieu. 

 But still for living wit the wreaths may bloom 

 That only tcaste their odours o'er the tomb. 

 Such Drury claimed, and claims, — nor you refuse- 

 One tribute to revive his slumbering muse ; < 



With garlands deck your own Meiiander's head ; 

 Nor hoard your honours idly for the dead! 



Dear are the days which made our annals bright, 

 Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley cease to write. 

 Heirs to their labours, like all high-born heirs. 

 Vain of our ancestry as they of theirs; 

 While thus Remembrance borrows Banquo's glass, 

 To claim the sceptred shadows as they pass. 

 And we the mirror hold, where imaged shine 

 Immortal names emblazoned on our line; 

 Pause — ere their feebler offspring you condemn. 

 Reflect how hard the task to rival them. 



Friends of the Stage — to whom both Players and Plays 

 Must sue alike for pardon, or for praise. 

 Whose judging voice and eye alone direct 

 The boundless power to cherish or reject. 

 If e'er frivolity has led to fame. 

 And make us blush that you forbore to blame, 

 If e'er the sinking stage could condescend 

 To soothe the sickly taste it dare not mend. 

 All past reproach may present scenes refute. 

 And censure, wisely loud, be justly mute ! 

 Oh ! since your fiat stamps the Drama's laws. 

 Forbear to mock us with mispiac'd applause: 

 So pride shall doubly nerve the actor's powers. 

 And reason's voice be echo'd back by our's! 

 This greeting o'er, — the ancient rule obey'd. 

 The Drama's homage by her herald paid. 

 Receive our welcome too — whose every tone 

 Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. 

 The curtain rises — may our stage unfold 

 Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old ! 

 Britons our judges, N;iture for our guide, 

 Still may we please, long — long may you preside. 



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