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DEDICATION.

Again, fair images, ye flutter near,

As erst ye shone to cheer the mourner's eye, And may I hope that ye will linger here?

Will my heart leap as in the days gone by ? Ye throng before my view, divinely clear,

Like sunbeams conquering a cloudy sky ! Beneath your lightning-glance my spirit burns, Magic is breathing - youth and joy returns !

What forms rise beautiful of happy years ?

What lovely shadows float before me fast? Like an old song still tingling in the ears,

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

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; If some still live this stranger world among,

Fortune hath scattered them at distance wide, To men unknown my griefs must I impart, Whose very praise is sorrow to the heart !

Again it comes i 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, Gladly they pay the trifle that we tax 'em, And gratitude should with new zeal inspire us. Our temporary theatre 's erected, Planks laid, posts raised, and something is expected. Already have the audience ta’en their station, With eye-brows lifted up in expectation ; They come with bounding spirits — hearts excited, Determined to be charmed - amazed - delighted !

I know the people's taste — their whims - caprices,
Could always get up popular new pieces ;
But never have I been before so harassed
As now — so thoroughly perplext, embarrassed !
Every one reads so much of every thing:
The books they read are not the best, 'tis true:
But then they are for ever reading - reading!
This being so, how can we hope to bring
Any thing out, that shall be good and new ?
What chance of now as formerly succeeding?
How I delight to see the people striving
To force their way into our crowded booth,
Pouring along, and fighting, nail and tooth,
Digging with elbows, through the passage driving,
As if it were St. Peter's gate, and leading
To something more desirable than Eden;
Long before FOUR, while daylight's strong as ever,
All hurrying to the box of the receiver,
Breaking their necks for tickets — thrusting — jam-

ming,
As at a baker's door in time of famine !

On men so various in their disposition, So different in manners - rank - condition; How is a miracle like this effected ? The poet – he alone is the magician. On thee, my friend, we call — from thee expect it.

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