Time cannot change them-they will gain from years That mellow richness, which most fair appears;

And future ages with delight shall dwell

On every picture, that we love so well.

Then, when thy magick shall enchant the soul,
When smiles shall waken, or when tears shall roll,
All hearts, enraptured, with a jubilee,
Unequalled Shakspeare, shall remember thee.

XII.

Power of the visioned throne, hail! sceptred Thought!
Of heaven-born lineage, inspiration-taught;

O'er time and space, thy empire vast extends,
The past and present, earth and heavenly blends.

Hail! wondrous genius! thine the mighty power,
With potent spell, at inspiration's hour,
To array the past, retrace the march of time,
And throng with life, the desolated clime;
Revive the deeds by fraud or greatness wrought;
Where glory fired, or heathen wisdom taught;
With power creative, conjure worlds unknown,
Teeming with life, strange beings of thy own;
Or, soaring high in regions unconfined,

Charm the rapt soul, and wing the mortal mind.

To what blest brow, the unfading wreath pertains?
The proudest meed, which Fame's high will ordains?
What chosen breast has inspiration fired
With peerless flame? What heaven-born soul attired
In Fancy's robes? and deigned her loftiest lyre,
With varied tones, to thrill, amaze, inspire?

To thee, great Shakspeare! thee, her favourite child, She gave her wand, and on thy magick smiled;

Thee, Bard of Avon! master of the heart;
Lo! Grecian greatness owns thy matchless art,
And future ages, pageant honours raise,
Award the palm, and celebrate thy praise.

Thy soul, capacious, Inspiration chose,

To quaff her fount, and visioned worlds disclose ;
Her magick mantle o'er thy senses threw,
And spread her glories to thy raptured view-
The secret depths of thought's ideal stores,

The boundless height, thy phrensied glance explores;
Imagination gave her flighty wings,

To fearless soar, and tempt the verge of things;

And playful Fancy's fairy hands attend,

To airy build, or rainbow's colours blend.

To picture Nature in her varied dress,
Where tempests rend, or zephyr winds caress;
In Alpine grandeur clothe the lofty scene,
Or stretch the lawn in gently waving green,
To flood all nature in day's golden stream,
Or palely gild with moonlight's silver beam,
Was thy unrivalled skill; thy pencil true
Sketched the green deeps, or caught the etherial blue;
Gay blooming Spring, or fruit-crowned Autumn smiled,
And echo answered to "thy wood-note wild;"
Lo! herald morn proclaims the god of day,
Or western clouds reflect his parting ray;
Now noontide height in radiant splendour rides,
Now curtained midnight all creation hides;

Around each scene is thrown the witching spell-
The poet's charm-the spirit forms that dwell
In ocean, air, and earth, and cavern-cell.

But chief, transcendant shone thy graphic art
In passion's maze, the regions of the heart;
To dive the depths, or trace the fountain source
Of human action in its various course,
To picture man, the inmost springs control;
Or hold the mirror to his blushing soul;
Each feature, foible, bias, strong impressed,
The master-passion shining through the rest;
Thy page is motley life—a living scene,
Of every age and sect, condition, mien,
In life's great drama-where, controlled by thee,
The winds and waves of passion's restless sea
Are vexed or smoothed; obedient to thy power,
They gently waft in bliss, or threatening tower.

Ambition's course-the whirlwind of the mind-
Mean, sordid Avarice, to his toil confined,
Voluptuous Pleasure, tuned to festive strains,
Or mad Revenge, with fury-boiling veins,
Remorse' dark sea where floods of sorrow roll,
Love's dreaming bliss, the siren of the soul,
Beguiled, where, late, the gentle flame confessed,
Bursts the volcano of the jealous breast.

And rich thy verse, with maximed wisdom fraught,
And endless metaphor, from nature caught:

T'unmask the impostor, folly's mark to hit,
Darts awful truth, the brevity of wit;
Severe in censure, see the satire train
Ply the keen scourge, exulting in the pain
In comick mirth, behold, the prince of fun,
The grotesque Falstaff! Humour's laughing son.

Thy tragick muse the scene of terror paints,
And pallid Fear in screaming horror faints;
From the deep fount of human feeling, draws
The pitying flood; the icy region thaws
Of stoick frost; the sympathetick tear
Balms the deep wound, or dews the sable bier.
The roll of time its moral lesson yields;
Intriguing senates, and embattled fields
Live at thy touch; react their sanguine deeds,
And Roman greatness, or harangues, or bleeds,
In more than mortal might.

Fresh from the dust,

In all their pride, ambition, crimes, and lust,
Rise Europe's kings, in regal trappings clad,
Palsied by age, or by ambition, mad;
The fawning parasite obedient stands,
To kindle hellish rage with Discord's brands,
No crimes too foul, the ruffian hand to stay,
Where Passion fires, Ambition points the way;
Aspiring woman gives the poisoned cup,

To void the throne, and help her favourite up;