The curtain falls---closed is the Drama's page:
Why lingers Beatrice upon the stage?
Away, illusion!---this is not thy sphere---
The sigh is faithful, and the grief sincere.
Should utterance tremble, should the tear-drop start,
They will but echo and o'erflow the heart.
Three years, my friends---how brief they seem!---have fled
Since on your shore 'twas my good hap to tread;
And if some anxious fears were mine at first,
How on my soul your liberal welcome burst!
Ye cheered my efforts---took me by the hand:
No more was I a stranger in the land.
A stranger! Why? on every side I heard
My native accents in each spoken word;
And every greeting which my toil beguiled
Was from the "well of English undefiled."
The mighty poet, whose creations bright
The Drama's spell evoked for you to-night,---
Did I not find his memory and his strains
Here as familiar as on Stratford's plains?
Your sires and he one Saxon stock could claim,
And ye with us partake his endless fame.
Ah! as the loiterer by some pleasant way,
Though duty bid him haste, would fain delay,---
Review the prospect beautiful---retrace
Each sunbright feature and each shadowy grace,---
So would I linger---so would I forget,
It is, alas! to part, that we have met.
Yet, ere I go, desponding Memory asks,
Is this the last of my too happy tasks?
Shall I no more a scene like this behold,
Or tread these boards, in your approval bold?
Too strong the chance that it will e'en be so---
Fate answers, "Ay!" but ah! Hope whispers, "No!"
And yet, though mute the voice, and closed the scene;
Though oceans stretch, and tempests roar between;
Whatever hues may mark my future lot,
Still let me dream that I'm not all forgot;
That Shakspeare's fair abstractions may restore
A thought of her who once their trophies wore;
That Talfourd's pathos, Knowles's tragic art,
Some wavering recollection may impart---
A look, a tone, that sympathy impressed,
That was the touch of nature to your breast.
But heedless Time hath brought our parting near:
Why do I still, superfluous, linger here?
Ah! think not ever an unreal part
So tasked my powers, and filled my beating heart!
I may not speak the thoughts that in it swell,---
I can but say, kind, generous friends, farewell!