 | Songs of the sea, with other poems |  |
147
THE DRAMA'S RACE.
This address was originally written for the occasion of a complimentary benefit to the manager of the Park Theatre, September 27th, 1839. Among the performers who appeared that evening were Mr. Power, the celebrated Irish comedian, who was shortly afterwards lost in the President, Miss Tree, Madame Caradori Allan, Madame Vestris, Mr. Charles Matthews, Mr. Barry, and Mr. Browne.
This address was originally written for the occasion of a complimentary benefit to the manager of the Park Theatre, September 27th, 1839. Among the performers who appeared that evening were Mr. Power, the celebrated Irish comedian, who was shortly afterwards lost in the President, Miss Tree, Madame Caradori Allan, Madame Vestris, Mr. Charles Matthews, Mr. Barry, and Mr. Browne.
SPOKEN BY MISS ELLEN TREE, AT THE PARK THEATRE.
Thanks! There is no illusion here:
Wit, Wisdom, Beauty, all appear,
And grace our house to-night;—
Still striving, as we do, to please,
A rich requital, smiles like these—
This fair inspiring sight!
Wit, Wisdom, Beauty, all appear,
And grace our house to-night;—
Still striving, as we do, to please,
A rich requital, smiles like these—
This fair inspiring sight!
Ah! as in boxes and in pit,
A goodly company, ye sit,
Are there no conjured shapes that flit
Your fancy's gaze before?
Shapes which this storied dome recalls,
Which start from these half-conscious walls,
Past pleasures to restore?
A goodly company, ye sit,
Are there no conjured shapes that flit
Your fancy's gaze before?
Shapes which this storied dome recalls,
Which start from these half-conscious walls,
Past pleasures to restore?
148
In worthiest state, I see them rise—
The brave, the beautiful, the wise,
The guilty, and the good—
The Drama's race! They come, they pass,
In crowds, o'er Memory's magic glass,—
A mingled multitude!
The brave, the beautiful, the wise,
The guilty, and the good—
The Drama's race! They come, they pass,
In crowds, o'er Memory's magic glass,—
A mingled multitude!
“Angels and ministers of grace
Defend us!” Is it Hamlet's face,
Hamlet the Dane, I see?
He bends his melancholy eyes
On vacancy, and, hark! he sighs,
“To be, or not to be!”
Defend us!” Is it Hamlet's face,
Hamlet the Dane, I see?
He bends his melancholy eyes
On vacancy, and, hark! he sighs,
“To be, or not to be!”
Indignant Hotspur rushes by,
And “Mortimer!” is still his cry—
Nought can his rage restrain.
Shylock gasps forth, “Is that the law?”
Old Lear puts on his crown of straw;
“Richard's himself again!”
And “Mortimer!” is still his cry—
Nought can his rage restrain.
Shylock gasps forth, “Is that the law?”
Old Lear puts on his crown of straw;
“Richard's himself again!”
149
Ah, Romeo! Romeo! is it thou?
Fair Juliet hears thy honeyed vow
Beneath the moon's pale beam;
And lo! Macbeth, with blood-stained hands!
And see where black Othello stands,
“Perplexed in the extreme!”
Fair Juliet hears thy honeyed vow
Beneath the moon's pale beam;
And lo! Macbeth, with blood-stained hands!
And see where black Othello stands,
“Perplexed in the extreme!”
“Run, run, Orlando!” Rosalind
Thy tributary verse shall find—
“The inexpressive she!”
Fear not to tell her of thy flame;
And do not fail to carve her name
Upon the nearest tree.
Thy tributary verse shall find—
“The inexpressive she!”
Fear not to tell her of thy flame;
And do not fail to carve her name
Upon the nearest tree.
“Farewell! farewell!” 'Tis Jaffier speaks;
And wretched Belvidera shrieks
As only wretches can.
Ha, Benedick! thou'rt caught at last!
Fair Beatrice the net hath cast—
Thou'lt be “the married man.”
And wretched Belvidera shrieks
As only wretches can.
Ha, Benedick! thou'rt caught at last!
Fair Beatrice the net hath cast—
Thou'lt be “the married man.”
150
Lo, Brutus, with a fierce appeal,
O'er lost Lucretia lifts the steel,
And shouts, “No more be slaves!”
And stern Virginius, pale and wild,
Folds to his breast his darling child;—
Then, thus!—her honor saves!
O'er lost Lucretia lifts the steel,
And shouts, “No more be slaves!”
And stern Virginius, pale and wild,
Folds to his breast his darling child;—
Then, thus!—her honor saves!
“Ho, Ion! 'Tis thy father's life!”
He grasps the sacrificial knife,
And seems transfixed with wonder;
And, as the fates of Argos roll
Their lurid terrors o'er his soul,
Exclaims, “Was not that thunder?”
He grasps the sacrificial knife,
And seems transfixed with wonder;
And, as the fates of Argos roll
Their lurid terrors o'er his soul,
Exclaims, “Was not that thunder?”
What an astounded group is seen,
Where falls my Lady Teazle's screen—
To none but Charles a joke!
There Julia mourns her fatal choice;
And, list! “That voice! 'Tis Clifford's voice,
If ever Clifford spoke!”
Where falls my Lady Teazle's screen—
To none but Charles a joke!
There Julia mourns her fatal choice;
And, list! “That voice! 'Tis Clifford's voice,
If ever Clifford spoke!”
151
Hoping he don't “intrude,” Paul Pry,
With his umbrella, comes to spy
What mischief may be done.
Ha, Ollapod! for human ills,
Your jokes are better than your pills—
“Good sir, I owe you one!”
With his umbrella, comes to spy
What mischief may be done.
Ha, Ollapod! for human ills,
Your jokes are better than your pills—
“Good sir, I owe you one!”
Pizarro, Douglas, William Tell,
Pauline, Sir Giles—I know you well,
As o'er the scene ye flock;
And Bardolph, with a cup of sack;
And there—“Well, go thy ways, old Jack,”
And fight “by Shrewsbury clock.”
Pauline, Sir Giles—I know you well,
As o'er the scene ye flock;
And Bardolph, with a cup of sack;
And there—“Well, go thy ways, old Jack,”
And fight “by Shrewsbury clock.”
But, hark! the impatient prompter stamps;—
A hint I've been before the lamps
A reasonable space;
And, at that sound, the airy throng,
Like guilty creatures, crowd along,
And, fading, leave no trace.
A hint I've been before the lamps
A reasonable space;
And, at that sound, the airy throng,
Like guilty creatures, crowd along,
And, fading, leave no trace.
152
The spell is broken:—but, before
I heed the summons, one word more,
If patience yet endures:
Till all its stars have disappeared,
May still the Drama's cause be cheered
By hands and lips like yours!
I heed the summons, one word more,
If patience yet endures:
Till all its stars have disappeared,
May still the Drama's cause be cheered
By hands and lips like yours!
| Songs of the sea, with other poems | |