University of California • Berkeley 
 
 
 '^i^yrer^// /'/ . 
 
♦^ 
 
 "M 
 
 AN ODE 
 
 ^is Cf)ree=f)unDret)ti) aBirtfjDap. 
 
 =^/<?c^ 
 
 P^mm0rtal ! rlfen to thy Reft, 
 
 gll^ Immortal ! throned among the Bleft, 
 
 Immortal ! long an heir fublime 
 
 Of realms outreaching fpace and time, — 
 
 How fhall we dare, or hope, to raife 
 
 A fitting homage of high praife 
 
 To pleafe thy Spirit, fphered on high 
 
 Where planets roll and comets fly ? 
 
 How may not thy pure fame be marr'd 
 
 By the damp breath of earthly bard, 
 
 Prefuming in his zeal too bold 
 
 To gild the bright refined gold ? 
 
 -M 
 
-^ 
 
 Or how canft Thou, fiU'd with God's love. 
 And tranced among the faints above. 
 Endure that men fhould feem and be 
 Idolators in piaife of Thee ? 
 Forgive our love, forgive our zeal, — 
 We cannot guefs how fpirits feel ; 
 And may our homage offered thus 
 Pleafe HIM who made both thee, and us ! 
 
 f|Mf mmartal alfo on this darker Earth 
 
 ^^g) As in thofe brighteft fpheres. 
 
 Now will we confecrate our Shakfpeare's birth. 
 
 This day three hundred years ! 
 And fo from age to age for evermore 
 
 His glory fhall extend. 
 With men of every land the wide world o'er, 
 
 Till Time itfelf fhall end ! 
 For, he is our's ; and well with pride and joy 
 
 England may blefs her fon. 
 The Stratford fcholar and the Warwick boy 
 
 That every crown hath won ! 
 Let others boaft their wifeft and their beft, 
 
 To each a prize may fall ; 
 Genius gives one apiece to all the reft, 
 
 But Shakfpeare claims them all ! 
 
•o 
 
 ^1 
 
 ^^ |p0nur, in majeiHc eloquence, 
 
 J^ A Terence, for keen wit and iHnging fenfe, 
 Brighter than Pindar in his loftiefl: flight, 
 Darker than .i^fchylus for deeds of night. 
 An Ovid, in the ftory-pidlured page, 
 A Juvenal, to lafh the vicious age. 
 Graceful as Horace and more fkill'd to pleafe, 
 Tender as pity-ftirring Sophocles, 
 Free as Anacreon, as Martial neat. 
 Than Virgil's felf more delicately fweet, — 
 O let thofe ancients bend before Thee now, 
 And pile their many chaplets on one brow ! — 
 Milton was great, and of divineft fong, 
 Spenfer melodious, Chaucer rough and ftrong, — 
 The vigorous Dryden, and the clafHc Gray, 
 And awful Dante, foaring far away, 
 Schiller and Goethe, ftirring up the ftrife. 
 And Moliere, dropping laughter into life. 
 Burns, a full fpring of nature. Hood of wit. 
 And Tennyfon, moft rare and exquifite. 
 To each and all belongs the laurell'd crown, — 
 And woe to him who drags their honours down, — 
 Yet, Shakfpeare, Thou wert all thefe lights combined, 
 O many-fided cryftal of mankind ! 
 
 m. 
 
 ^J3/gt jealous Moor, the thoughtful Dane, 
 The witty rare fat knight. 
 
w 
 
 ^ 
 
 xAnd grand old Lear half-infane. 
 
 And fell lago's fplte. 
 And Romeo's love, and Tybalt's hate, 
 And Bolingbroke in regal ftate. 
 
 And he that murdered fleep, — 
 And ruthlefs Shylock's bloody bond, 
 And Profper with his broken wand 
 
 Long buried fathoms deep ! 
 Frank Juliet too, — and that foft pair 
 Helen and Hermia, lilies fair 
 
 As growing on one ftem, 
 Love-cfazed Ophelia, drown'd, ah ! drown'd. 
 And wanton Cleopatra, crown'd 
 
 With Egypt's diadem ; 
 The young Miranda moft admired, 
 
 Cordelia's filial heart. 
 Sly Beatrice with wit infpired. 
 
 And Ariel's trickfey part, 
 Fair Rofalind, — fweet banifhed. 
 And o;entle Defdemona — dead ! — 
 Ay, thefe — all thefe, and crowds befide. 
 
 Heroes, jefters, courtiers, clowns. 
 Girls in grief, or kings in pride. 
 
 Threats and crimes, and jokes, and frowns, 
 Witches, fairies, ghofts, and elves, 
 All our fancies, all ourfelves, — 
 O ! Thou haft pi6!:ured with thy pen 
 All phafes of all hearts of men. 
 And in thy various page furvives 
 The Panorama of our lives ! 
 
 
J^' 
 
 IJliragaU unthought before, 
 p^^ b miracle of felf-taught lore, 
 A univerfe of wit and worth, 
 vThe admirable Man of earth. 
 There is nor thing, nor thought, nor whim, 
 Untouch'd and unadorn'd by him ; 
 No theme unfung, no truth untold 
 Of Earth's mufeum, new or old : 
 All Nature's hidden things he faw, 
 Intuitive to every law ; 
 Glancing with fupernal fcan 
 At all the knowledge fpelt by man ; 
 While, for each rule and craft of Art 
 He grafp'd it amply, whole and part : 
 Like travel-wife Ulyfles well he knew 
 Peoples and cities, men and manners too ; 
 With fhrewd but ever charitable ken 
 He read, and wrote out fair, the hearts of men ; 
 Yet, in felf-knowledge vers'd, a fage outright, 
 His giant foul was humble in its might ! 
 O gentle, happy, modeft mind, 
 O genial, cheerful, frank and kind. 
 Not even could domeftic ftrife 
 Sour the fweetnefs of thy life, — 
 But, wherefoe'er thy foot might roam. 
 Divorced from that Xantippe'd home, 
 Friends ever found thee, — ay, and foes, 
 Cordial to thefe, and kind to thofe ; 
 Brave, loving, patient, generous, juft, and goody- 
 Beloved by all, our matchlefs Shakfpeare ftood ! 
 
 
u~~~ '^ 
 
 ^^|lMOtr^ are thy glorious works unknown ? 
 ©p^© Who hath not heard thy fame ? 
 On every fhore, in every zone, 
 
 The World, with glad acclaim, 
 Yea, from the cottage to the throne. 
 
 Hath magnified thy name ! 
 From far Auflralia to Vancouver's pines. 
 From the High Alps to Ruflia's deepeft mines, 
 From China, with her Englifh lefibn learnt. 
 To Chili, wailing for her daughters burnt ; 
 There, everywhere, our Shakfpeare breathes and moves 
 In the fweet ether of all human loves ! — 
 Where rent America now writhes in woe. 
 Where Nile and Danube, Thames and Ganges flow, 
 Wherever England fails, and human kind 
 Anywhere feels in heart, and thinks in mind. 
 There, everywhere, our Shakfpeare's voice is heard. 
 By him all fouls are thrill'd, and cheer'd, and ftirr'd ; 
 Each paffion flows or ebbs, as Shakfpeare fpeaks, 
 Hate knits the brow, or terror pales the cheeks, 
 Love lights the eyes, or pity melts the heart, 
 And all men bow beneath our Poet's art ! 
 
 ^ ^ ^^ 
 

 r 
 
 monument to rear, 
 What worthy offering ? — 
 Nought lacks thy glory here 
 Of all thy fons can bring : 
 Long llnce, a twin-fphered brother fpake, 
 
 How vain it were to raife 
 To fuch a Name, for Memory's fake. 
 Its pyramid of praife ; 
 Our Shakfpeare needs no fculptured ftones, 
 No temple for his honoured bones ! 
 But haply, in his native ftreet 
 
 Befide the refcued home 
 Hallowed by his infant feet 
 
 Whereto all pilgrims roam, 
 A College well might rear its head. 
 That Townfman's name to bear. 
 And brother-aftors' fons be bred 
 To light and learning there ! 
 And, for great London and its throngs, — 
 To Shakfpeare of old right belongs 
 The Shakfpeare Bridge, with Shakfpeare fcenes 
 Sculptured upon its pannelFd fcreens, 
 Coloffus-like the Thames to fpan, 
 And telling every pafling man 
 Where a poor player in his youth 
 Served Heaven and Earth by mimic truth, 
 And wrapped in Art's and Nature^s robe. 
 Leafed, — 'twas his Heritage — the Globe ! — 
 

 mil 
 
 l:S^Xtlu Magician for all time, 
 
 ^ Denizen of every clime, 
 Darling poet of mankind, 
 Mafter of the human mind, 
 Nature's very prieft and king, — 
 Take the gifts thy children bring ! 
 Let thy Spirit, hovering o'er 
 Thine earthly home and haunts of yore, 
 In its wifdom, vi^ealth, and worth. 
 
 Shine upon us from above, 
 While thy kinfmen here on earth 
 
 Thus with pious care and love 
 Celebrate our Shakfpeare's birth. 
 
 March 1864. 
 
 London: Hatchard ^ Co., 187 Piccadilly , 
 Bookfellers to H.R.H. the Princefs of Wales. 
 
 Strnngeways 8s H'alden, Pri'ntere, London, W.C.