VERSES ON SEEING THE TRAGEDY OF THE REGENT. TO BERTIE GREATHEAD, ESQ. George Monck Berkeley Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T142950 K111746.000 Berkeley, George Monck, 1763-1793. Poems: by the late George-Monck Berkeley, Esq. ... With a preface by the editor, consisting of some anecdotes of Mr. Monck Berkeley and several of his friends. London printed by J. Nichols; and sold by Messrs. Leigh and Sotheby; Mr. Edwards; Mr. Cooke, Oxford; Mr. Todd, York; Messrs. Simmons and Co.; Messrs. Flackton, Marrable, and Claris; and Mr. Bristow, Canterbury 1797 pp. 45-47. viii,DCXXXII,212p.,plate: port.; 4⁰.

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VERSES ON SEEING THE TRAGEDY OF THE REGENT Mr. B. being just landed from a long and stormy passage from abroad , wrote five lines to his Mother , and retired to rest . On rising to eat his dinner at a miserable inn , he asked , “ If they had any book in the house . ” Some one replied , “ A gentleman had gone away , and left a play-book behind him . ” Mr. B. desired to see it ; it entered with his dinner , which he left to take care of itself until he had finished that charming piece . He unlocked his writing-box , wrote the following lines , sealed and sent them off by post , then ate his dinner . Mr. B. sometimes said , when shewing them to his friends , “ I do not suppose that Mr. Greathead ever knew from whom he received them . ” A lady of very high rank and very cultivated mind once asked Mr. B.'s Mother “ Whether early friendship had not led Mr. B. to see the Regent with such very partial eyes . ” Mrs. B. replied , “ That she believed her son was not at all acquainted with Mr. G. ; but that , had she been a poet , she would have said as much as her son had done . ” . TO BERTIE GREATHEAD , ESQ . AWAKE , ye Nymphs of Avon's stream , Of Shakspeare's verse the fav'rite theme ; No more within that sparry cave , Whose mouth Avonia's waters lave ; On coral beds in grief recline , But round your brows the laurel twine ; Again by Cynthia's pallid beam , Be seen amid the glassy stream ; O chaunt again that Doric strain , Ye learn'd of Avon's tuneful swain ; And with you bring the breathing lute , For ages lost , for ages mute , That Genius erst on him bestow'd , Whose pictur'd breast with fancy glow'd ; For wak'd by notes that oft have charm'd , Again by hallow'd frenzy warm'd . Hark! Echo quits her mossy bed , And scarce believes her Shakspeare dead ; Again , by Avon's silver stream A Bard resumes great Nature's theme ; Spurning the rules of sordid art , Guided but by a feeling heart ; From Nature's self the picture draws , Confin'd by none but Nature's laws ; To Fancy's realm the daring wight On eagle wing pursues his flight ; And wand'ring blest those bow'rs among , Where Shakspeare's self unrival'd sung ; As straying 'mid the holy wood , For you , fair sisters of the flood ; A blooming wreath behold him twine , A wreath immortal and divine .