Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/388

346 The rival candidates for Attic fame!

In grim array though ' spectres rise,

Still and  divide the prize.

And sure great Skeffington must claim our praise,

For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays

Renowned alike; whose genius ne'er confines

Her flight to garnish Greenwood's gay designs;

Nor sleeps with "Sleeping Beauties," but anon

In five facetious acts comes thundering on.

While poor John Bull, bewildered with the scene,

Stares, wondering what the devil it can mean;

But as some hands applaud, a venal few!

Rather than sleep, why John applauds it too.

Such are we now. Ah! wherefore should we turn

To what our fathers were, unless to mourn?

Degenerate Britons! are ye dead to shame,

Or, kind to dulness, do you fear to blame?

Well may the nobles of our present race

Watch each distortion of a 's face;

Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons,

And worship 's pantaloons,