DEDICATION. AGAIN, fair images, ye flutter near, As erst ye shone to cheer the mourner's eye, Will my heart leap as in the days gone by? What forms rise beautiful of happy years? I hear the voice of loves and friendships past; Renewed each sorrow, and each joy appears, That marked life's changing labyrinthine waste; The friends return, who passed in youth away, Cheated, alas! of half life's little day B But, ah! they cannot hear my closing song, Those hearts, for whom my earliest lays were tried: Departed is, alas! the friendly throng, And dumb the echoing spirits that replied; Again it comes! a long unwonted feeling, A wish for that calm solemn phantom-land My song is swelling now, now lowly stealing, Like Æol's harp, by varying breezes fanned, Tears follow tears, my weaknesses revealing, And silent shudders show a heart unmanned, -Dull forms of daily life before me flee, The PAST the PAST alone, seems true to me! FAUSTUS. PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. MANAGER. DRAMATIC POET. MR. MERRYMAN. MANAGER. My two good friends, on whom I have depended, At all times to assist me and advise; Aid your old friend once more to-night he tries, (And greatly fears the fate that may attend it) For Germany a novel enterprise, To please the public I am most desirous; Live and let live, has ever been their maxim, Planks laid, posts raised, and something is expected. Already have the audience ta'en their station, They come with bounding spirits — hearts excited, amazed-delighted! I know the people's taste — their whims - caprices, As now so thoroughly perplext, embarrassed! The books they read are not the best, 'tis true: Breaking their necks for tickets-thrusting-jamming, As at a baker's door in time of famine! On men so various in their disposition, The poet - he alone is the magician. On thee, my friend, we call — from thee expect it. |