Page:The poetical works of Thomas Campbell.djvu/132

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Those tears upon Cordelia's bosom shed,In doubt more touching than despair,If 'twas reality he felt?Had Shakspeare's self amidst you been,Friends, he had seen you melt,And triumphed to have seen!
And there was many an hourOf blended kindred fame,When Siddons's auxiliar powerAnd sister magic came.Together at the Muse's sideThe tragic paragons had grown—They were the children of her pride,The columns of her throne,And undivided favour ranFrom heart to heart in their applause,Save for the gallantry of man.In lovelier woman's cause.
Fair as some classic dome,Robust and richly graced,Your Kemble's spirit was the homeOf genius and of taste;Taste like the silent dial's power,That when supernal light is given,Can measure inspiration's hour,And tell its height in heaven.At once ennobled and correct,His mind surveyed the tragic page,And what the actor could effect,The scholar could presage.
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