Saw the long column of revolving flames Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames, Usurped the Muse's realm, and marked her fall;" 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, As soars this fane to emulate the last, Oh! might we draw our omens from the past, Names such as hallow still the dome we lost. On Drury first your Siddons' thrilling art O'erwhelmed the gentlest, stormed the sternest heart. But still for living wit the wreaths may bloom That only waste their odours o'er the tomb. VOL. IV. H Such Drury claimed and claims-nor you refuse With garlands deck your own Menander's head! Dear are the days which made our annals bright, Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley ceased to write. Heirs to their labours, like all high-born heirs, 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 made us blush that you forbore to blame, If e'er the sinking stage could condescend So pride shall doubly nerve the actor's powers, This greeting o'er, the ancient rule obeyed, The Drama's homage by her herald paid, Receive our welcome too, whose every tone The curtain rises-may our stage unfold Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old! Britons our judges, Nature for our guide, Still may we please-long, long may you preside! |