You were much loved; you spake a potent word
In the world's ear, and listening thousands heard
With joy that clear and confident appeal.
The lingering doubts finer-strung spirits feel,
The sensitive shrinkings from familiar touch
Of the high mysteries, moved you not. Of such
The great throng-stirrers! And you stirred the throng
Who felt you honest and who knew you strong;
Racy of homely earth, yet spirit-fired
With all their higher moods felt, loved, desired.
Puritan, yet of no ascetic strain
Or arid straitness, freshening as the rain
And healthy as the clod; a native force
Incult yet quickening, cleaving its straight course
Unchecked, unchastened, conquering to the end.
Crudeness may chill, and confidence offend,
But manhood, mother wit, and selfless zeal,
Speech clear as light, and courage true as steel
Must win the many. Honest soul and brave,
The greatest drop their garlands on your grave!
* * * * *
'LOOK HERE, UPON THIS PICTURE AND ON THIS!'
(_THE HAYMARKET HAMLET AS HE IS AND OUGHT TO BE._)
[Illustration]
_Mr. H. Kemble_. "My dear Tree, _I_ ought to have played _Hamlet_.
First, my name--Kemble. Secondly, Shakspeare's authority--'Oh, that
this too too solid flesh would melt,' and again, 'Fat and scant of
breath'!"
_Mr. B. Tree_. "All right, my dear Kemble. Quite true what you say;
and, any night I am unable to play, you shall be my double!"
* * * * *
WHIPPED IN VAIN.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25