Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/86

No Cooke, no Kemble, can salute you here,
No Siddons draw the sympathetic tear;
To-night you throng to witness the début
Of embryo Actors, to the Drama new:
Here, then, our almost unfledg'd wings we try;
Clip not owr pinions, ere the birds can fly:
Failing in this our first attempt to soar,
Drooping, alas! we fall to rise no more.
Not one poor trembler, only, fear betrays,
Who hopes, yet almost dreads to meet your praise;
But all our Dramatis Personæ wait,
In fond suspense this crisis of their fate.
No venal views our progress can retard,
Your generous plaudits are our sole reward;
For these, each Hero all his power displays,^[1]
Each timid Heroine shrinks before your gaze:
Surely the last will some protection find?^[2]
None, to the softer sex, can prove unkind:
While Youth and Beauty form the female shield,^[3]
The sternest Censor to the fair must yield.^[4]
Yet, should our feeble efforts nought avail,
Should, after all, our best endeavours fail;
Still, let some mercy in your bosoms live,
And, if you can't applaud, at least forgive.

1. For them each Hero.—[4to]
2. Surely these last.—[4to]
3. Whilst Youth.—[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]
4. The sternest critic.—[4to]