The heav'nly guests, who came to laugh with me,
Oppress'd with grief, wept with Melpomene;
Bow'd pensive o'er the Bard of Nature's tomb,
Dropt a sad tear, then left me to my doom!"
I leave the reader to judge for himself whether the Muses really "came to laugh" with Mary Hornby, or whether, under the belief of the immortality of our Bard, they did not rather expect a pleasant soirée with Gentle Will, and naturally enough went off in a huff when they found themselves inveigled into a tea-party at Mrs. Hornby's.
Mr. Wilson, in the work above quoted, does condescend to notice Mrs. Hornby,—
"Who rented the butcher's shop under the chamber in which the poet was born, and kept the Shaksperian Album, an interesting record of the visitors to that shrine. Some of the subscribers having given vent to original stanzas suggested by the scene, those effusions," continues the lofty bookseller, "the female in question caused to be inscribed and printed in a small pamphlet, which she sells to strangers."
Not a word, you will see, about the poet's mantle having descended upon the shoulders of our Mary,—which was unpolite of him, seeing that both the tragedy and comedy had the precedence of his book by some years. Not having before me the later history of Shakspeare's house, I am unable to say whether our subject deserved more consideration and gallant treatment at the hands of Mr. Collier, when he and his colleagues came into possession.
J. O.