Thus with the flames that from old Drury rise
Its elements primeval sought the skies;
There pendulous to wait the happy hour,
When new attractions should restore their power:
So, in this procreant theatre elate,
Echoes unborn their future life await;
Her embryo sounds in ether lie conceal'd,
Like words in northern atmosphere congeal'd.
Here many a fœtus laugh and half encore
Clings to the roof, or creeps along the floor;