THE REVIVAL.

Peace to his soul! new prospects bloom,

And toil rebuilds what fires consume!

Eat we and drink we, be our ditty,

“Joy to the managing committee!”

Eat we and drink we, join to rum

Roast beef and pudding of the plum!

Forth from thy nook, John Horner, come,

With bread of ginger brown thy thumb,

For this is Drury's gay day:

Roll, roll thy hoop, and twirl thy tops,

And buy, to glad thy smiling chops,

Crisp parliament with lollypops,

And fingers of the Lady.

Didst mark, how toil'd the busy train,

From morn to eve, till Drury Lane

Leap'd like a roebuck from the plain?

Ropes rose and sunk, and rose again,

And nimble workmen trod;

To realise bold Wyatt's plan

Rush'd many a howling Irishman;

Loud clatter'd many a porter-can,

And many a ragamuffin clan

With trowel and with hod.

Drury revives! her rounded pate

Is blue, is heavenly blue with slate;

She “wings the midway air” elate,

As magpie, crow, or chough;

White paint her modish visage smears,

Yellow and pointed are her ears,

No pendent portico appears

Dangling beneath, for Whitbread's shears

Have cut the bauble off.

Yes, she exalts her stately head;

And, but that solid bulk outspread

Opposed you on your onward tread,

And posts and pillars warranted

That all was true that Wyatt said,

You might have deemed her walls so thick

Were not composed of stone or brick,

But all a phantom, all a trick,

Of brain disturb'd and fancy sick,

So high she soars, so vast, so quick!