Classic Poem

In drowsy days of yore — those stupid times
Ere fashion sanctioned follies — varnished crimes;
When neither rigid laws nor cynic rules
Could check the increase of knaves — the growth of fools —
Old Thespis then, a shrewd, though laughing sage
Fell on a merry plan to cure the age,
Held up a polished mirror to their faces,
Shewed guilt his scowl — folly her queer grimaces.
Both shrunk ashamed their hideous forms to view,
And from the arch reproof a lesson drew.
This magic glass we have — but when we shew it
'Tis to amuse the curious throng who view it
Twere rude to hint in these enlightened days
The polished world could aught demand but praise.
Yet should some straggling vices lurk behind, —
We do not hold a mirror to the blind.
For your amusement on its surface clear,
We bid the Drama's varied train appear.

See, wrapped in brooding sorrow, Hamlet move —
The glare of courts he shuns — the joys of love —
Holds dread communion with the opening tomb,
And, shuddering, learns his sire's mysterious doom.
On fate's drear verge in awful thought revolves
The fearful plunge — half doubts and half resolves,
Yet pausing, fears to pass the gloomy bourne
Of that dark realm whence travellers ne'er return.

Here may the lover learn how sure and strong
The potent passion bears its course along.
What jealous doubts perplex Othello's brain —
What transports throb in youthful Romeo's vein.

Lo! mad Octavian shuns with sullen pride
The hated sun, in cavern glooms to hide —
Now calls to mind the days when fortune smiled,
And love, and hope, and joy his youth beguiled,
Then spurns the golden vision, welcomes care,
On sorrow gluts and banquets on despair.

Nor shall young lovers only here discern
Congenial souls, and useful lessons learn.
Here may our touchy sparks, who dare resistance
" And hold their honors at a wary distance, "
From ancient Pistol learn the valiant stride,
The frown ferocious secret fears to hide,
And when with furious air he eats the leek
The art to bluster, and with strut — to sneak.

Plague on all cowards still, cries Mammoth Jack;
Marry and amen — Bardolph, a cup of sack —
Puffs under forty stone of solid mirth,
And, as he waddles, lards the trembling earth.

But would you mark how beams the mental ray,
How warms and animates the lifeless clay,
Note Leon's idiot speech and vacant stare,
His smile, and bashful look, and awkward air;
Then see this simplest of the idiot kind
Step forth in all the majesty of mind;
Assert himself, the husband's rights maintain,
And brave the power that would his honor stain.

Sometimes a harsher picture stands displayed
Where Brutus sternly waves the patriot blade
And Julius falls; or where our scenes disclose
The secret pangs that cursed ambition knows;
See fell Macbeth with Tarquin's stealthy stride
And cautious glance to Duncan's chamber glide,
Yet startled pause, while guilt unnerves his force,
To mark the air-drawn dagger's fatal course

Success may crown ambition's daring blow,
The diadem may press the guilty brow,
Yet not the courtly buzz of regal state,
Where crowds of bowing lords obsequious wait,
Nor hosts of guards can chase those fiends away
That haunt his dreams by night, his thoughts by day.

What terrors agonize the tyrant's heart!
See from his couch the bloody Richard start!
Guilt breaks his slumbers, fear his sense confounds,
" Another horse! " he cries, " bind up my wounds! "
Have mercy! Heaven — soft — 'twas but a dream; "
Yet down his limbs cold drops of horror stream.

O, who that sees alarmed conscience roll
Her tide of terrors o'er the guilty soul,
But draws a lesson from the scene sublime,
Detests the culprit and abhors the crime.

Yet why thus bid dramatic phantoms pass
Like shadowy monarchs seen in Banquo's glass?
Vanish each tragic sprite — each comic elf,
And let the manager enact himself.
While hopes invite and anxious doubts assail
I've launched my bark and hope a favoring gale.
Why should I fear? When round I cast my eye,
I see a friendly shore, a cloudless sky.

(Box. — ) A tranquil deep which every doubt beguiles,
A horizon of beauty, dressed in smiles.
And sure those smiles which cheered my former terrors,
Which beamed indulgence on my early errors,
Will not withdraw; nor censure's waves overwhelm
Our feeble vessel, now I hold the helm .

Some, too, I see — I speak with grateful pride —
Whose generous favor knows no ebbing tide;
In every changeful season still the same,
Still prompt to aid — to prize my humble name.
Friends whom my heart, with honest warmth, would greet,
And still shall honor, while its pulses beat.

(Pit. — ) But lo! the critic tribe, a sapient band
Who full before me take their watchful stand;
Sages self-dubbed, who deign to teach the town
When to look pleased, or glum, to smile, or frown.

A precious set ye are — of motley hue,
Some arrant grumblers, faith, a crusty crew, —
Who blame in gross, in trivial points commend,
And often coin the fault you reprehend.
Some merry wags, who strike a careless stroke,
And crack an actor's crown to crack a joke. —
How shall I win your favor, asks a pause —
To your own humors I commit my cause.
(Gallery — ) Ye whose high wrath in rumbling thunder rolls
To fright lords, senators, and warriors' souls,
Distilled almost to jelly with their fears,
While your descending censures storm their ears;
Your right assumptive none shall dare disprove
To hoot when groves, chairs, tables wrongly move.
Shifters of scenes no more shall act amiss
Nor jumbling seas with towns provoke your hiss;
Musicians dread your ever ready hands,
And John shall make his bow at your commands

But hold! the anchor's weighed, the sail's unfurled,
And sink or swim, we try the billowy world.
No time is left for prayers to wind or wave,
But skill must try the slender bark to save;
Then rouse, my steadfast soul. " Blow wind, come wrack,
At least, I'll die with harness on my back. "