Although a curtain of the salt sea-mist
May fall between the actor and our eyes —
Although he change, for dear and softer skies,
These that the Spring has yet but coyly kist —
Although the voice to which we loved to list
Fail ere the thunder of our plaudits dies —
Although he part from us in gracious wise,
With grateful Memory left his eulogist—
His best is with us still.
His perfect art
Has held us ‘twixt a heart-throb and a tear—
Cheating our souls to passionate belief:
And in his greatness we have now some part—
We have been courtiers of the crownless Lear,
And partners in Othello’s mighty grief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem