Nor changed to gall the honey of his life;
Some white Othello who with feather bed
Had smothered not, his unoffending wife.
The applause of listening houses to command,
The critics smile and malice to despise,
To win reward from lord and lady’s hand,
And the approval of the thundering skies,
Their parents hindered, and did thus o’erthrow
The brilliant hopes that in their bosom rose
To tear Macready’s laurels from his brow,