Part 1 — THE STAGE.
Reading edition
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BY WILLIAM WALLACE.
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Oh! I could weep when I perceive the cloud
Of dark impurities around our Stage,
Where those creations, gay, or sad, or proud—
Hamlet’s strange wo, or wronged Othello’s rage
Hallowed fair Albion’s selectest age:
Yet would I not, like certain ones, behold
Theatric pomp proscribed in liberal land,
While pale Contempt (as once in ages old)
Kills with a single look the buskin band.
A beauty sparkles yet around the Place—
A mystic charm—a fairy-beaming grace—
Appealing loudly to the coldest heart:
These boards once held the glory of our race,
And still they reverence a Shakspeare’s Art.