Shakspeare

I love to rove o’er history’s page,
Recall the hero and the sage;
Revive the actions of the dead,
And memory of ages fled:
Yet it yields me greater pleasure,
To read the poet’s pleasing measure.
Led by Shakspeare, bard inspired,
The bosom’s energies are fired;
We learn to shed the generous tear,
O’er poor Ophelia’s sacred bier;
To love the merry moonlit scene,
With fairy elves in valleys green;
Or, borne on fancy’s heavenly wings,
To listen while sweet Ariel sings.
How sweet the “native woodnotes wild”
Of him, the Muse’s favourite child!
Of him whose magic lays impart
Each various feeling to the heart!