24.06.2007, 20:31
After Seeing "Rob Roy" at Covent Garden
Macready! thou hast pleased me much; till now
(And yet I would not thy fine powers arraign)
I did not think thou hadst that livelier vein
Nor that clear open spirit on thy brow.
Come, I will crown thee with Apollo's bough;
Mine is a humble branch, yet not in vain
Given, if the few I sing shall not disdain
To wear the little wreaths that I bestow:--
There is a buoyant air, a passionate tone
That breathes about thee, lighting up thine eye
With fire and freedom; it becomes thee well.
It is the bursting of a good seed sown
Beneath a cold and artificial sky;
It is genius overmastering its spell.
Macready! thou hast pleased me much; till now
(And yet I would not thy fine powers arraign)
I did not think thou hadst that livelier vein
Nor that clear open spirit on thy brow.
Come, I will crown thee with Apollo's bough;
Mine is a humble branch, yet not in vain
Given, if the few I sing shall not disdain
To wear the little wreaths that I bestow:--
There is a buoyant air, a passionate tone
That breathes about thee, lighting up thine eye
With fire and freedom; it becomes thee well.
It is the bursting of a good seed sown
Beneath a cold and artificial sky;
It is genius overmastering its spell.