Lord Byron (1788–1824). Poetry of Byron. 1881.
IV. SatiricMobility
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On Adeline while playing her grand rôle,
Which she went through as though it were a dance
(Betraying only now and then her soul
By a look scarce perceptibly askance
Of weariness or scorn), began to feel
Some doubt how much of Adeline was real;
By turns—with that vivacious versatility, Which many people take for want of heart. They err—’tis merely what is call’d mobility, A thing of temperament—and not of art, Though seeming so from its supposed facility; And false—though true; for surely they’re sincerest Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest. Heroes sometimes, though seldom—sages never; But speakers, bards, diplomatists, and dancers, Little that’s great, but much of what is clever; Most orators, but very few financiers, Though all Exchequer chancellors endeavour, Of late years, to dispense with Cocker’s rigours, And grow quite figurative with their figures.