8. I saw thee gaze upon my face, Yet meet with no confusion there : One only feeling could'st thou trace; The sullen calmness of despair. 9. Away! away! my early dream Remembrance never must awake: Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream? XXI. From the Portuguese. In moments to delight devoted, "My life!" with tend'rest tone, you cry; Dear words! on which my heart had doated, If youth could neither fade nor die. To death even hours like these must roll, Ah! then repeat those accents never, Or change "my life!" into "my soul!" Which, like my love, exists for ever. XXII. Impromptu, in Reply to a Friend. WHEN from the heart where Sorrow sits Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And clouds the brow, or fills the eye; 7 XXIII. Address, spoken at the opening of Drury-lane Theatre, Saturday, October 10th, 1812. In one dread night our city saw, and sighed, Bowed to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride; In one short hour, beheld the blazing fane Ye who beheld, oh sight admired and mourned, Whose radiance mocked the ruin it adorned! Through clouds of fire, the massy fragments riven, Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames, Usurped the Muse's realm, and marked her fall; Reared, where once rose the mightiest in our isle, 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, And bids the Drama be where she hath been. This fabric's birth attests the potent spellIndulge our honest pride, and say, How well! : As soars this fane to emulate the last, Oh! might we draw our omens from the past, On Drury first your Siddons' thrilling art O'erwhelm'd the gentlest, stormed the sternest heart. Dear are the days which made our annals bright,|-} Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley ceased to write.- And we the mirror hold, where imaged shine 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; And made us blush that you forbore to blame If e'er the sinking stage could condescend To soothe the sickly taste, it dare not mend— This greeting o'er the ancient rule obey'd, |