When tyrant customs Freedom's island fled,
'Twas then the Stage first rear'd her infant head;
'Twas then fair Albion on her Britons smil'd,
And gave them Shakespeare , Nature's darling child!
Olympus hail'd, thrice hail'd the aspicious morn,
Minerva nam'd, a young Apollo born;
Great Jove bade Mercury down to Stratford wing,
Steal the young imp, and to Olympus bring,
The God of thefts, the dread command obey'd,
And to Olympus soon the boy convey'd:
Him Jove approv'd, and instant did invest
With ev'ry Gift that could adorn his breast;
" Be thine the care, Minerva, to impart
" To him the secrets of thy potent art;
" Wisdom and Virtue see a refuge find,
" Within each chasm of his infant mind. "
" Enough, " she said, " my father, he appears
" Already M AN , tho' infant yet in years. "
" Away, " he cry'd, " be to my orders just,
" And on fair Avon lodge thy sacred trust. "
'Twas done — the goddess instant reach'd the earth,
And plac'd her treasure where he first had birth;
In raptures saw his reason rapid rise,
His cloud-capt tow'rs e'en reach'd his native skies;
The gods themselves, were even struck amaz'd,
And on his Tempest — all with wonder gaz'd;
Minerva soon his matchless deeds made known,
And proudly boasted Shakespeare was her own .
Short, very short — he ran his bold career;
But Britain ever shall his name revere!
You will we trace in Jubilee each night
His works, with anxious and supreme delight;
And as his statue meets the glist'ning eye,
Each breast shall pay the tribute of a sigh!
Avaunt, then, Death! 'tis not thy fatal dart
Can ere erase his mem'ry from the heart .
Tho' when you struck, Melpomene shook with fear,
And e'en Thalia, shed a silent tear;
But in his heav'n of heav'ns he's now a guest —
There rest, sweet Bard, immortal Shakespeare, rest!