Hear, with what heart-felt beat, the midnight bell To walk, with taper dim, the winding isle ; Beyond this nether sphere, on Rapture's wing of fire. III. 3. Lord of each pang the nerves can feel, Destined to shine when suns are dark? Thy triumphs cease! thro' every land, Hark! Truth proclaims, thy triumphs cease! Her heavenly form, with glowing hand, Benignly points to piety and peace. Flushed with youth, her looks impart Each fine feeling as it flows; Pure as the mountain-snows: Celestial transports round her play, She smiles! and where is now the cloud Grim darkness furls his leaden shroud, Her touch unlocks the day-spring from above, And lo! it visits man with beams of light and love. YES, 'tis the pulse of life! my fears were vain; After a Tragedy, performed for her benefit, at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, April 27, 1795. lanching each honest cheek with deeds of night, one here so oft by dim and doubtful light. -To drop all metaphor, that little bell alled back reality, and broke the spell. No heroine claims your tears with tragic tone; L very woman-scarce restrains her own! 'an she, with fiction, charm the cheated mind, When to be grateful is the part assigned? Ah, no! she scorns the trappings of her Art; No theme but truth, no prompter but the heart! But, Ladies, say, must I alone unmask? s here no other actress, let me ask. Believe me, those, who best the heart dissect, Know every Woman studies stage-effect. She moulds her manners to the part she fills, As Instinct teaches, or as Humour wills; And, as the grave or gay her talent calls, Acts in the drama, till the curtain falls. First, how her little breast with triumph swells, When the red coral rings its golden bells! To play in pantomime is then the rage, Along the carpet's many-coloured stage; Or lisp her merry thoughts with loud endeavour, Now here, now there,-in noise and mischief ever! A school-girl next, she curls her hair in papers, And mimics father's gout, and mother's vapours; Discards her doll, bribes Betty for romances; Playful at church, and serious when she dances; Tramples alike on customs and on toes, And whispers all she hears to all she knows; Her prudence dictates what her pride disdained, And, in return, a thousand cards receive; |