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THE SHADOWS of SHAKESPEARE: A MONODY, OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH of Mr. GARRICK. BEING APRIZE POEM, WRITTEN FOR THE VASE AT BATH-EASTON. THE SECOND EDITION.
BY COURTNEY MELMOTH.
That you may ſee
His Shadows, as they paſs.
SHAKESPEARE.
BATH: Printed and Sold by R. CRUTTWELL: Sold alſo by Meſſrs, BULL, TAYLOR, SHELDON, TENNENT, and SHRIMPTON, Bookſellers, in Bath; and by E. and C. DILLY, in the Poultry, London.
[PRICE ONE SHILLING.]
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Juſt Publiſhed, By the ſame AUTHOR, In THREE POCKET VOLUMES, Price 7s. 6d. ſew'd, Embelliſhed with a beautiful FRONTISPIECE, SHENSTONE-GREEN: OR, THE NEW PARADISE LOST. BEING A HISTORY of HUMAN NATURE.
Had I a Fortune of Eight or Ten Thouſand Pounds a Year, I would build myſelf a Neighbourhood.
SHENSTONE.
Printed for R. BALDWIN, No. 47, in Pater-noſter-Row, LONDON; and to be had of the BATH BOOKSELLERS.
THE SHADOWS OF SHAKESPEARE.
[5]I.
SOON as the breath of Rumour blew
This ſolemn theme into the general ear,
To holy Solitude I flew,
And bade the Muſe her ſympathy prepare!
There cloſeted with Thought,
The brain its ſhapeleſs travail wrought!
The ſeaſon to the ſubject ſolemnly did ſuit:
[6] Day's dazzling orb was wholly down;
Pale Cynthia ſat upon her ſilver throne;
Th' obtruſions of the light were clos'd
It ſeem'd, as SILENCE ſelf repos'd,
For with the Air, the Earth and all her ſons were mute:
All but the wretched, who like me,
The gentle vigils kept of ſympathy.
With cordial awe I hail'd the ſhading night,
And kiſs'd her duſky robe which muffled thus the light.
II.
Baſe buſy World, begone, begone, I ſaid,
To mighty GARRICK yield the ſerious mind,
This awful Now be ſacred to the dead,
And turn the cautious key on human kind.
[7]III.
The Dead—ah, me!—what dead?—Here it began
The florid Poet felt himſelf a Man.
And is he dead, whoſe wonder-working art
So often tore, and touch'd, and tun'd the heart?
Whoſe piercing eye intelligence could give,
And bid long-buried beings look and live?
Whoſe voice enrich'd the verſe his Shakeſpeare writ,
And gave to every word its weight of wit;
No ſentence blemiſh'd, marr'd no golden line,
But poliſh'd, as he drew it from the mine;
Whoſe tongue grew wanton in his Shakeſpeare's cauſe,
And gave to crowded Theatres their laws;
Whoſe powerful accents, ſoften'd or ſublime,
Free from all frippery, falſe pauſe, falſe chime,
[8] Chain'd, as to th' attracting centre, every ear;
And, all commanding, ſawy'd the ſmile and tear:
Is it to Him the Muſe muſt pay
Her tributary lay?
For him, muſt aching Memory pour the ſtrain,
Muſt ſhe her darling GARRICK'S loſs complain?
IV.
The heart was hurt—It could no more—
Along each finer nerve ſwift ſhot the miſery,
Even Nature ſhed her penſive ſhower;
The mighty Mother wept, alas! with me:
Th' imperial Goddeſs mourn'd her own decay,
(Mix'd univerſal with our human clay)
And wiſh'd ſhe could a ſecond birth beſtow
On this her Repreſentative below.
[9] But, ah! it cannot be,
So the rich debt was paid, to poor Humanity.
V.
Then in the ſable ſtole of woe,
All conſcious of the blow,
Pale her cheek, her eye declining,
Half obedient, half repining;
Her viſage mark'd by many a tear,
(Pour'd from the cryſtal ſource of grief ſincere)
In awful ſtate,
Unfortunate and great,
MELPOMENE came on,
Afflicted for her Son,
And thrice, methought, the BOWL ſhe lifted high,
And thrice ſhe threw on Heaven the pity-moving eye;
[10] Then, like the ſtatue of Deſpair,
Stood fix'd—her DAGGER pois'd in air.
VI.
Now 'twas THALIA firſt conceiv'd a pain,
'Twas now ſhe echo'd back her ſiſter's ſighs again;
The jeſt, the laugh, the look, were o'er,
Her cunning was no more;
The comic mirth, the comic pride,
Her wit, her whim, with GARRICK dy'd;
Diſdainful then the maſk ſhe flung
To vacant air—and thus forlorn ſhe ſung:
And ah! away with random rhyme,
Tinſel, ill-ſuited to the time;
Away with leiſure's coxcomb line,
The couplet quaint, the ſtanza fine;
[11] Far from our verſe be now the pun, the point,
The period meaſured joint by joint;
Th' elaborate trade of poeſy forbear—
Or rather paint the workings of deſpair;
Scorn the vain edging [...]able Verſe aſſumes,
And let dark Elegy paſs on, in all her pompous plumes.
The honour of the Dead in view,
A juſter path will we purſue;
SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF, who beſt our ſtate can feel,
Shall the ſad tale in his own language tell.
VII.
Th' inſpiring Goddeſs, mortals FANCY name,
With all her magic arm'd, now near me came
Her waving wand, deep midnight deeper made,
With her I went—to where our GARRICK laid.
[12] Cynthia lent a feeble ray,
To light us on our way!
FANCY with printleſs footſteps trod,
As if advancing towards a GOD!
Methought we eaſy entrance found,
And the drear Abbey walk'd around.
How fearful thus, ye Heavens! to tread,
The dampſome vaults which cloſe the dead!
VIII.
But ſoft—
As at the foot of mighty SHAKESPEARE'S tomb
I kneel—ſudden along the fretted ailes
Innumerous SHADY FORMS, by the pale moon's
Imperfect beam beheld, — in various guiſe—
(Each in the habit worn in days of Nature)
[13] Appear, and pour their potent ſpells upon me!
Aw'd by a ſight ſo ſtrange, aloft I ſtood,
And wiſt not what to do:—the figures mov'd!
On near approach I knew them for the TRAIN
Of SHAKESPEARE: In proceſſion ſad,
Strait, one by one his hallow'd homage paid
O'er GARRICK'S grave all bending.
IX.
ARIEL firſt,
(Not ſight-deceiving, as her cuſtom was,
When in the bowels of the earth ſhe div'd;
"Or mounted on the ſharp wind of the North,
"Or on the curling clouds, or ſunny ray,
"Nor like a ſpirit at eaſe") but with ſtep
Deliberate—She, and her fellow-miniſters,
[14] ("Brimful of ſorrow and diſmay") ſtood mute,
Then gaz'd upon the grave, — then ſunk in ſighs.
X.
PROSPERO,
The great magician, next—(whoſe high command
"Wak'd ſleepers in their graves, and let them forth")
Beheld the vaniſhing inſtruments of 's art,
And ſpake—
"Have ye, which are but air,
"A touch, a feeling of our loſs extreme;
"And ſhall not I, one of his kind, be kindlier?
"Our revel then is done; and this our Actor
"Is no more! Loſt is the book of Conjuration:—
"He regulated all our myſtic charms:—He's dead!
"The cloud-capt tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
[15] "The ſolemn temples, the great globe itſelf;
"Yea, all which it inherit, ſhall diſſolve,
"And, like the baſeleſs fabrick of a viſion,
"Leave not a wreck behind."
XI.
He ſaid, and paſs'd.
The weir'd Siſters then, hag-born and horrid,
Mutter'd their melancholy homage hoarſe;
Cold diſtillations of diſtreſs extreme
Fell down the furrows of each wint'ry cheek:
Thrice pac'd they piteous round the hallow'd earth,
Acknowledging their Lord. To GARRICK'S grave,
Bow'd every ſwarthy She.—To end their rites,
Imagination's OWL flapp'd her fell wing,
And, wailing, ſhriek'd as 'croſs the dome ſhe ſlew:
[16] Sudden, the whirring wizards diſappear,
And horſe themſelves upon the viewleſs winds.
XII.
The gentle ROMEO was the third which came;
And oh! he ſaid, "Turn back dull Earth—ah, me!
"Can I go forward when my friend is here?
"It is even ſo—Then I defy you ſtars!
"Romeo ſhall never more be Romeo now
"His occupation's gone."—
XIII.
The noble CORIOLANUS was the fourth,
Whoſe very ſhade look'd martial—firm he ſtrode,
And thus with Roman dignity exclaim'd,
In honour of the Dead:
[17] "My fame like thine
"Demands an equal voice, an equal tongue:
"All eyes ſpoke of thee, and the bleared ſights
"Were ſpectacled to ſee thee—the veil'd dames
"Commit the wave of white and damaſk, in
"Their nicely gauded cheeks, to th'wanton ſpoil
"Of Phoebus' burning kiſſes: ſuch a pother,
"As if that whatſoever God that tun'd thy throat
"Were ſlyly crept into thy human powers,
"To give thee grace and poſture. Oft, great ſhade!
"The dumb men throng'd to ſee thee, and the blind
"To hear thee ſpeak. To thee have Nobles bended,
"As to Jove's Statue; and the Commons made
"A ſhower and thunder with their caps and ſhouts
"As ne'er were ſeen the like."—The ſoldier paſs'd.
[18]XIV.
The fifth ſad ſpirit that ſtalk'd by was LEAR'S,
Mad as the vext ſea ſtill; and ſinging oft;
Crown'd, as of old, by Shakeſpeare's hand; with fumiter,
With hardocks, hemlocks, nettles, cuckoo flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In the ſuftaining corn—
At ſight of GARRICK'S tomb his wounds again
Bled freſh. Tottering he mov'd; his words were wild.
"You do me wrong to call me out o' th' grave!
"And yet I know thee, Man!—Heav'n has thee now!
"Thou wer't Lear's friend.—In faith I do remember.—
"Yes, we were both as ſtout a pair:—but why
"This truant diſpoſition? Is the greateſt man
"So poor and forked an animal in death?—
[19] "Off, off, you lendings, come unbutton here—Poor ſhade!
"No more of that, no more of that.—
XV.
The figure ſwift ſucceeding was the THANE'S,
Languid and penitent.—His hand he wav'd
As 'twere in honour of the man, whoſe voice
Did blow his baſe deſign in every ear:
Malice was dead within him, and he wept;
Then ſtriking thrice his boſom, thus he cried:
"Oh Nature! how thyſelf thou blazon'dſt
"In this thy Son; form'd in thy prodigality
"To hold thy mirror up, and give the time
"Its very form and preſſure:—when he ſpoke
"Each aged ear play'd truant at his tales,
"And younger hearers were quite raviſh'd;
[20] "So valuable was his diſcourſe.—Yet, being dead,
"I am a man again!"—He ruſh'd along.
XVI.
The gallant ANTHONY then onward ſtrode
And paus'd—as 'erſt o'er Caeſar's corſe:—then ſpake:
"Thou art the ruins of the nobleſt man
"That ever liv'd in the tide of Times!
"Here was an Actor—when comes ſuch ANOTHER?
XVII.
The next a female form, of PERCY's line,
A race for ever noble—thus her tribute gave:
—"Thou wert the very glaſs
"Wherein the nobleſt youth did dreſs themſelves;
"There were no legs that practis'd not thy gait;
[21] "There were no eyes that practis'd not thy looks;
"Even thoſe that ſpoke but low and tardily
"Would turn their own perfections to abuſe,
"To ſeem like Thee: So that in ſpeech, in gait,
"In accents, and affections of delight,
"Thou wert the mark and glaſs, copy and book,
"To faſhion others; and on thee, as on
"My Harry and the Sun, bright Honour ſtuck,
"As ſticks the Sun in the grey vault of Heaven."
XVIII.
And now, the melancholy JAQUES advanc'd,
And, full of matter, thus in few, exclaim'd:
"Why all the World's a ſtage,
"And all the Men and Women merely players:
"They have their exits and their entrances;
[22] "And THIS MAN, in his time, play'd many parts.
"Life! No more on't; it is a tale, told
"By an idiot, ſignifying nothing."
XIX.
At laſt, with philoſophic ſtep,
Swift-ſtreaming eye, and arms entwined cloſe,
The ſacred ſhade of his OWN HAMLET came:
Long time he paus'd—long time around he look'd,
Then fix'd his view upon the grave, and ſpoke:
"'Tis not now, ſeems; in verity, it is;
"Oh, what a grace was ſeated on that brow!
"An eye, like Mars, to threaten or command;
"A combination and a form indeed,
"Where every God did ſeem to ſet his ſeal,
"To give the world aſſurance of a Man!
[23] "And is it come to this?—but huſh, my heart!
"He was a Man, take him for all in all,
"We may not look upon his like aga
XX.
While wrapt in wonder of theſe various ſhews
The ſovereign ſhade of SHAKESPEARE awful roſe,
His many-colour'd wand he wav'd,
And ſoon the mournful train again were grav'd.
(Now was His genius even more divine,)
And all alone he ſtood before his GARRICK'S ſhrine.
Reſt, reſt, perturbed ſpirits, then, he ſaid,
To me belongs th'ineſtimable dead;
To each 'tis given to breathe, to fall;
'Tis the fix'd lot of all that ſoar or crawl.
[24] For Thee, much honour'd friend,
What glories mark'd thy end!
Applauding nations own thy fame,
And, with their SHAKSPEARE'S, blend their GARRICK'S name.
Together then we mount on high,
'Tis OUR'S to TRIUMPH, 'tis the WORLD'S to SIGH.
THE END.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3479 The shadows of Shakespeare a monody occasioned by the death of Mr Garrick Being a prize poem written for the vase at Bath Easton The second edition By Courtney Melmoth. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5FEB-2