University of Virginia Library


266

TO ELLEN TREE IN ‘ION.’

In Woman's garb, howe'er you're dressed—
In Man's, whate'er you try on—
Oh! Ellen, you look always best—
And so you do in Ion.
To wear the male suit is, I know,
A thing that some cry fie on!
But foolish folks like these should go
To see you play in Ion.
In comic or in tragic parts
You still look chaste as Dian,
But Ellen! you hunt hearts (not harts),
Yes, though you're dressed for Ion.
Your lovers, lady, still must sue,
Must still adore and sigh on,
Although perplexed to see in you
The gentle Greek youth Ion.
Oh! could I write his praise and thine
In Greek as good as Bion's,
I'd dedicate a lasting line
To link your fame with Ion's.

267

I like your acting in Pauline,
A theme I oft shall cry on;
I love you in the Youthful Queen—
But don't I love your Ion.
Your Wife (she is so like my own)
Was quite a lovely lion;
But never love like that was known
Which binds my heart to Ion.
Your Viola was sweetly pure,
A point one need not lie on;
But yet methinks— I'm not quite sure—
Your leg looked best in Ion.
Your brow, and fair Clemanthe's brow,
I here one chaplet tie on;
Yes, you're Clemanthe's self, for now
You're married fast to Ion!
United States!’ Ah! me, that word
A rock has thrown me nigh on;
You will not go—the tale's absurd—
What will become of Ion!
If I were Serjeant Talfourd—if! —
While ocean waves you fly on,
I'd sing on Albion's highest cliff
An Io unto Ion.

268

You'd charm along your watery way,
The dolphins like Arion—
I'm sure you will, if you but play
The charming part of Ion.
But if you go—a subject this
My eyes will not be dry on—
I wish you years of fame and bliss,
A long, long age of Ion.
Yes, fame is yours! for if she cast
Her wreaths, we know not why, on
Some ladies' heads, 'tis you at last
She'll fondly fix her eye on.
No wonder you're called Ellen Tree
(Some truth the jest you'll spy on)
Since you are covered, as we see,
With laurels gained in Ion.
1836.