Bright was thy youth--thy manhood brighter still-- The greatest Romeo upon Holborn Hill-- Lightest comedian of the pleasant day, When Jordan threw her sunshine o'er a play! But these, though happy, were but subject times, And no man cares for bottom-steps that climbs-- Far from my wish it is to stifle down The hours that saw thee snatch the Surrey crown! Tho' now thy hand a mightier sceptre wields, Fair was thy reign in sweet St. George's Fields. Dibdin was _Premier_--and a golden _age_ For a short time enrich'd the subject stage. Thou hadst, than other Kings, more peace-and-plenty; Ours but one Bench could boast, but thou hadst twenty; But the times changed--and Booth-acting no more Drew Rulers' shillings to the gallery door. Thou didst, with bag and baggage, wander thence, Repentant, like thy neighbour Magdalens! III. Next, the Olympic Games were tried, each feat Practis'd, the most bewitching in Wych Street. Charles had his royal ribaldry restor'd, And in a downright neighbourhood drank and whor'd; Rochester there in dirty ways again Revell'd--and liv'd once more in Drury Lane: But thou, R. W.! kept thy moral ways, Pit-lecturing 'twixt the farces and the plays, A lamplight Irving to the butcher boys That soil'd the benches and that made a noise:-- "YOU,--in the back!--can scarcely hear a line! Down from those benches--butchers--they are MINE!" IV. Lastly--and thou wert built for it by nature!-- Crown'd was thy head in Drury Lane Th_ea_tre! Gentle George Robins saw that it was good, And renters cluck'd around thee in a brood. King thou wert made of Drury and of Kean! Of many a lady and of many a Quean! With Poole and Larpent was thy reign begun-- But now thou turnest from the Dead and Dun, Hook's in thine eye, to write thy plays, no doubt, And Colman lives to cut the damnlet's out! Oh, worthy of the house! the King's commission! Isn't thy condition "a most bless'd condition?" Thou reignest over Winston, Kean, and all The very lofty and the very small-- Showest the plumbless Bunn the way to kick-- Keepest a Williams for thy veriest stick-- Seest a Vestris in her sweetest moments, Without the danger of newspaper comments-- Tellest Macready, as none dared before, Thine open mind from the half-open door!-- (Alas! I fear he has left Melpomene's crown, To be a Boniface in Buxton town!)-- Thou hold'st the watch, as half-price people know, And callest to them, to a moment, "Go!" Teachest the sapient Sapio how to sing-- Hangest a cat most oddly by the wing-- Hast known the length of a Cubitt-foot--and kiss'd The pearly whiteness of a Stephens' wrist-- Kissing and pitying--tender and humane! "By heaven she loves me! Oh, it is too plain!" A sigh like this thy trembling passion slips,