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In ev'ry style that Man has e'er design'd
When German schools, th' Historic Muse shall own, O'er Public Taste the wizard spell had thrown;
When liberal Britons could endure to lose
Their Poet's numbers for a Playwright's prose;
* The West Indian.
† Miss Baillie, Authoress of “ Plays on the Passions :" for the rest, let Mr. Scott speak:
She, the bold enchantress, came,
Yes, it was thine, O Baillie! to unfold
What Truth had rescued from the Bigot's hold;
And trace the Passions even to their source :
Yet, ere destroying Time shall end thy page,
“ Still,” cry the learn'd, “ a Tragic Bard survives, And Cumberland in classic Coleridge lives;
From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure,
MARMION, Introd, to Canto 3.
For genius, spirit, harmony, and force,
* Ever ready to acknowledge improvement wbere it is to be found, I congratulate Mr. Coleridge on his return, in part, to the plain-beaten road of Common Sense. But where all has been done, much still remains to be undone. Remorse is far, very far from a perfect tragedy. It possesses the same faults that Johnson complains of in the Odes of Gray. “ The images are magnified by affectation; the language is labored into harshness. The mind of the writer seems to work with unnatural violence. ' Double, double toil and trouble.' He has a kind of strutting dignity; and is tall by walking on tip-toe. His art and his struggle are too visible; and there is too little appearance of ease and nature.” The construction of the plot is very injudicious. The want of incident renders it deficient in stage effect, and the imagination receives no stimulus from a Tale, whose denouement is anticipated long before the proper period for disclosure. -The character of Alvar througliout bears a very close resemblance to Cumberland's St. Valori; but how differently do they express their feelings! Never was the superiority of nature over art more evident! Without ineaning any invidious compa:
If labor'd verse can recompense for ease, -
rison, for between Cumberland and Coleridge there can exist none,
I will extract a few lines from each; where Alvar discover's hiinself to his mistress, and St. Valori to his wife.
ALVÁR. • Alvar was not murdered.
Be calin! be calm, sireet maid !
Teruså. [TVildly.] Nay, nay, but tell me!
[A pause, then presses her forehead.]
-O'tis lost again
[A puuse, she gases at Alvar.]
ALVAR. . I can endure no more. The Moorish Sorcerer
Exists but in the stain upon this face.
If scribblers, throwing Incident away, Can out of nothing still produce a Play,
Teresa. (Advances towards him.] Ha! speak on !
. . Beloved Teresa!
It told but half the truth. O let this portrait
Tell all - that Alvar lives that he is here!
Thy much deceived but ever faithful Alvar.
Remorse, act v, scene 1.
impression of Matilda's infidelity.]
Was captured. - Start not; but repress your terrors.
That I hear this and live. St. Valori captured !
Of hard captivity