Those bursts of Reason’s half-extinguished glare—
Those tears upon Cordelia’s bosom shed,
In doubt more touching than despair,
If ’twas reality he felt?
Had Shakespeare’s self amidst you been,
Friends, he had seen you melt,
And triumphed to have seen!
And there was many an hour
Of blended kindred fame,
When Siddons’ auxiliar power