ye　stole；　Shall　I　this　time　attempt　to　clasp；　to　hold　ye？　Still　for　the　fond　illusion
  yearns　my　soul？　Ye　press　around！　Come　then；　your　captive　hold　me；　As
  upward　from　the　vapoury　mist　ye　roll；　Within　my　breast　youth's　throbbing
  pulse　is　bounding；　Fann'd　by　the　magic　breath　your　march　surrounding。
  Shades　fondly　loved　appear；　your　train　attending；　And　visions　fair　of　many　a
  blissful　day；　First　…　love　and　friendship　their　fond　accents　blending；　Like　to
  some　ancient；　half　…　expiring　lay；　Sorrow　revives；　her　wail　of　anguish　sending
  Back　o'er　life's　devious　labyrinthine　way；　And　names　the　dear　ones；　they
  whom　Fate　bereaving　Of　life's　fair　hours；　left　me　behind　them　grieving。
  They　hear　me　not　my　later　cadence　singing；　The　souls　to　whom　my　earlier　lays
  I　sang；　Dispersed　the　throng；　their　severed　flight　now　winging；　Mute　are　the
  voices　that　responsive　rang。　For　stranger　crowds　the　Orphean　lyre　now
  stringing；　E'en　their　applause　is　to　my　heart　a　pang；　Of　old　who　listened　to　my
  song；　glad　hearted；　If　yet　they　live；　now　wander　widely　parted。
  A　yearning　long　unfelt；　each　impulse　swaying；　To　yon　calm　spirit　…　realm
  uplifts　my　soul；　In　faltering　cadence；　as　when　Zephyr　playing；　Fans　the
  Aeolian　harp；　my　numbers　roll；　Tear　follows　tear；　my　steadfast　heart　obeying
  The　tender　impulse；　loses　its　control；　What　I　possess　as　from　afar　I　see；
  Those　I　have　lost　become　realities　to　me。
  Prologue　For　The　Theatre
  Manager。　Dramatic　Poet。　Merryman。
  Manager
  Ye　twain；　in　trouble　and　distress　True　friends　whom　I　so　oft　have　found；　Say；
  for　our　scheme　on　German　ground；　What　prospect　have　we　of　success？　Fain
  would　I　please　the　public；　win　their　thanks；　They　live　and　let　live；　hence　it　is
  but　meet。　The　posts　are　now　erected；　and　the　planks；　And　all　look　forward　to
  a　festal　treat。　Their　places　taken；　they；　with　eyebrows　rais'd；　Sit　patiently；　and
  fain　would　be　amaz'd。　I　know　the　art　to　hit　the　public　taste；　Yet　ne'er　of　failure
  felt　so　keen　a　dread；　True；　they　are　not　accustomed　to　the　best；　But　then
  appalling　the　amount　they've　read。　How　make　our　entertainment　striking；　new；
  And　yet　significant　and　pleasing　too？　For　to　be　plain；　I　love　to　see　the　throng；
  As　to　our　booth　the　living　tide　progresses；　As　wave　on　wave　successive　rolls
  along；　And　through　heaven's　narrow　portal　forceful　presses；　Still　in　broad
  daylight；　ere　the　clock　strikes　four；　With　blows　their　way　towards　the　box
  they　take；　And；　as　for　bread　in　famine；　at　the　baker's　door；　For　tickets　are
  content　their　necks　to　break。　Such　various　minds　the　bard　alone　can　sway；
  My　friend；　oh　work　this　miracle　to　…　day！
  Poet
  Oh　of　the　motley　throng　speak　not　before　me；　At　whose　aspect　the　Spirit
  wings　its　flight！　Conceal　the　surging　concourse；　I　implore　thee；　Whose　vortex
  draws　us　with　resistless　might。　No；　to　some　peaceful　heavenly　nook　restore
  me；　Where　only　for　the　bard　blooms　pure　delight；　Where　love　and　friendship
  yield　their　choicest　blessing；　Our　heart's　true　bliss；　with　god　…　like　hand
  caressing。
  What　in　the　spirit's　depths　was　there　created；　What　shyly　there　the　lip　shaped
  forth　in　sound；　A　failure　now；　with　words　now　fitly　mated；　In　the　wild　tumult
  of　the　hour　is　drown'd；　Full　oft　the　poet's　thought　for　years　hath　waited　Until
  at　length　with　perfect　form　'tis　crowned；　What　dazzles；　for　the　moment　born；
  must　perish；　What　genuine　is　posterity　will　cherish。
  Merryman
  This　cant　about　posterity　I　hate；　About　posterity　were　I　to　prate；　Who　then
  the　living　would　amuse？　For　they　Will　have　diversion；　ay；　and　'tis　their　due。　A
  sprightly　fellow's　presence　at　your　play；　Methinks　should　also　count　for
  something　too；　Whose　genial　wit　the　audience　still　inspires；　Knows　from　their
  changeful　mood　no　angry　feeling；　A　wider　circle　he　desires；　To　their　heart's
  depths　more　surely　thus　appealing。　To　work；　then！　Give　a　master　…　piece；　my
  friend；　Bring　Fancy　with　her　choral　trains　before　us；　Sense；　reason；　feeling；
  passion；　but　attend！　Let　folly　also　swell　the　tragic　chorus。
  Manager
  In　chief；　of　incident　enough　prepare！　A　show　they　want；　they　come　to　gape
  and　stare。　Spin　for　their　eyes　abundant　occupation；　So　that　the　multitude　may
  wondering　gaze；　You　by　sheer　bulk　have　won　your　reputation；　The　man　you
  are　all　love　to　praise。　By　mass　alone　can　you　subdue　the　masses；　Each　then
  selects　in　time　what　suits　his　bent。　Bring　much；　you　something　bring　for　various
  classes；　And　from　the　house　goes　every　one　content。　You　give　a　piece；
  abroad　in　pieces　send　it！　'Tis　a　ragout　…　success　must　needs　attend　it；　'Tis　easy
  to　serve　up；　as　easy　to　invent。　A　finish'd　whole　what　boots　it　to　present！　Full
  soon　the　public　will　in　pieces　rend　it。
  Poet
  How　mean　such　handicraft　as　this　you　cannot　feel！　How　it　revolts　the　genuine
  artist's　mind！　The　sorry　trash　in　which　these　coxcombs　deal；　Is　here　approved
  on　principle；　I　find。
  Manager
  Such　a　reproof　disturbs　me　not　a　whit！　Who　on　efficient　work　is　bent；　Must
  choose　the　fittest　instrument。　Consider！　'tis　soft　wood　you　have　to　split；　Think
  too　for　whom　you　write；　I　pray！　One　comes　to　while　an　hour　away；　One　from
  the　festive　board；　a　sated　guest；　Others；　more　dreaded　than　the　rest；　From
  journal　…　reading　hurry　to　the　play。　As　to　a　masquerade；　with　absent　minds；
  they　press；　Sheer　curiosity　their　footsteps　winging；　Ladies　display　their
  persons　and　their　dress；　Actors　unpaid　their　service　bringing。　What　dreams
  beguile　you　on　your　poet's　height？　What　puts　a　full　house　in　a　merry　mood？
  More　closely　view　your　patrons　of　the　night！　The　half　are　cold；　the　half　are
  rude。　One；　the　play　over；　craves　a　game　of　cards；　Another　a　wild　night　in
  wanton　joy　would　spend。　Poor　fools　the　muses'　fair　regards。　Why　court　for
  such　a　paltry　end？　I　tell　you；　give　them　more；　still　more　'tis　all　I　ask；　Thus　you
  will　ne'er　stray　widely　from　the　goal；　Your　audience　seek　to　mystify　cajole；　To
  satisfy　them　…　that's　a　harder　task。　What　ails　thee？　art　enraptured　or
  distressed？
  Poet
  Depart！　elsewhere　another　servant　choose　What！　shall　the　bard　his　godlike
  power　abuse？　Man's　loftiest　right；　kind　nature's　high　bequest；　For　your　mean
  purpose　basely　sport　away？　Whence　comes　his　mastery　o'er　the　human
  breast；　Whence　o'er　the　elements　his　sway；　But　from　the　harmony　that；
  gushing　from　his　soul；　Draws　back　into　his　heart　the　wondrous　whole？　With
  careless　hand　when　round　her　spindle；　Nature　Winds　the　interminable　thread
  of　life；　When　'mid　the　clash　of　Being　every　creature　Mingles　in　harsh
  inextricable　strife；　Who　deals　their　course　unvaried　till　it　falleth；　In　rhythmic
  flow　to　music's　measur'd　tone？　Each　solitary　note　whose　genius　calleth；　To
  swell　the　mighty　choir　in　unison？　Who　in　the　raging　storm　sees　passion
  low'ring？　Or　flush　of　earnest　thought　in　evening's　glow？　Who　every　blossom　in
  sweet　spring　…　time　flowering　Along　the　loved　one's　path　would　strow？　Who；
  Nature's　green　familiar　leaves　entwining；　Wreathe's　glory's　garland；　won　on
  every　field？　Makes　sure　Olympus；　heavenly　powers　combining？　Man's　mighty
  spirit；　in　the　bard　reveal'd！
  Merryman
  Come　then；　employ　your　lofty　inspiration；　And　carry　on　the　poet's　avocation；
  Just　as　we　carry　on　a　love　affair。　Two　meet　by　chance；　are　pleased；　they
  linger　there；　Insensibly　are　link'd；　they　scarce　know　how；　Fortune　seems　now
  propitious；　adverse　now；　Then　come　alternate　rapture　and　despair；　And　'tis　a
  true　romance　ere　one's　aware。　Just　such　a　drama　let　us　now　compose。　Plunge
  boldly　into　life　…　its　depths　disclose！　Each　lives　it；　not　to　many　is　it　known；
  'Twill　interest　wheresoever　seiz'd　and　shown；　Bright　pictures；　but　obscure
  their　meaning：　A　ray　of　truth　through　error　gleaming；　Thus　you　the　best　elixir
  brew；　To　charm　mankind；　and　edify　them　too。　Then　youth's　fair　blossoms
  crowd　to　view　your　play；　And　wait　as　on　an　oracle；　while　they；　The　tender
  souls；　who　love　the　melting　mood；　Suck　from　your　work　their　melancholy
  food；　Now　this　one；　and　now　that；　you　deeply　stir；　Each　sees　the　working　of
  his　heart　laid　bare。　Their　tears；　their　laughter；　you　command　with　ease；　The
  lofty　still　they　honour；　the　illusive　love。　Your　finish'd　gentlemen　you　ne'er　can
  please；　A　growing　mind　alone　will　grateful　prove。
  Poet
  Then　give　me　back　youth's　golden　prime；　When　my　own　spirit　too　was
  growing；　When　from　my　heart　th'　unbidden　rhyme　Gush'd　forth；　a　fount　for
  ever　flowing；　Then　shadowy　mist　the　world　conceal'd；　And　every　bud　sweet
  promise　made；　Of　wonders　yet　to　be　reveal'd；　As　through　the　vales；　with
  blooms　inlaid；　Culling　a　thousand　flowers　I　stray'd。　Naught　had　I；　yet　a　rich
  profusion！　The　thirst　for　truth；　joy　in　each　fond　illusion。　Give　me　unquell'd
  those　impulses　to　prove；　Rapture　so　deep；　its　ecstasy　was　pain；　The　power　of
  hate；　the　energy　of　love；　Give　me；　oh　give　me　back　my　youth　again！
  Merryman
  Youth；　my　good　friend；　you　certainly　require　When　foes　in　battle　round　ar