Bold is the man! who, in this nicer age, Presumes to tread the chaste corrected stage. Now, with gay tinsel arts, we can no more Conceal the want of Nature's sterling ore. Our spells are vanish'd, broke our magic wand, That used to waft you over sea and land. Before your light the fairy people fade, The demons fly -- the ghost itself is laid. In vain of martial scenes the loud alarms, The mighty prompter thundering out, to arms, The playhouse posse clattering from afar, The close-wedged battle, and the din of war. Now, e'en the senate seldom we convene: The yawning fathers nod behind the scene. Your taste rejects the glittering false sublime, To sigh in metaphor, and die in rhyme. High rant is tumbled from his gallery throne: Description dreams -- nay, similes are gone. What shall we then? to please you how devise, Whose judgment sits not in your ears and eyes? Thrice happy! could we catch great Shakspere's art, To trace the deep recesses of the heart; His simple plain sublime, to which is given To strike the soul with darted flame from heaven; Could we awake soft Otway's tender wo, The pomp of verse and golden lines of Rowe. We to your hearts apply; let them attend; Before their silent candid bar we bend. If warm'd, they listen, 'tis our noblest praise; If cold, they wither all the Muse's bays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALEXANDER CRUMMELL - DEAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE THREE WARNINGS by HESTER LYNCH (SALUSBURY) PIOZZI IN SICKNESS (1714) by JONATHAN SWIFT THE HOUND OF HEAVEN by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS GRACE AND STRENGTH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LOVE'S NEW PHILOSOPHY by PHILIP AYRES STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY by BERNARD BARTON |