On the Opening of the Same Theatre

ON THE OPENING OF THE SAME THEATRE .

O' ER the wild waves, unwilling more to roam,
And by his kind affections call'd for home;
When the bold youth that every climate tries
'Twixt the blue bosoms—'twixt the seas and skies—
When he beholds his native Albion near,
And the glad gale gives wings to his career,
What glowing ecstasies, by Fancy drest,
What filial sentiments expand his breast!
In the full happiness he forms on shore,
Doubts—dangers—and fatigues are felt no more.

 Such are the joys that in our bosoms burn!
Such the glad hopes that glow at our return!
With such warm ardours you behold us meet,
To lay, once more, our labours at your feet.

 (Not without hopes your patronage will last)
We bend with gratitude for favours past.
That our light bark defied the rage of winter,
Rode every gale—nor started ev'n a splinter;
We bow to Beauty—('twas those smiles secur'd her)
And thank our patrons who so kindly moor'd her.
Still—still—extend your gentle cares to save her.
That she may anchor long in Whitby's—favour.