vilege of being present at any exhibition | the walls unto the inner [court], had this
which should be prepared for the Queen. music maintained from them very delect-
Laneham understood the French, Span- ably, while her highness all along this tilt
ish, Dutch, and Latin languages, which yard rode unto the inner gate, next the
he says, now and then stand me in good of the Lake, (famous in King Arthur's
base-court of the castle, where the Lady
stead. There have been several copies book) with two nymphs waiting upon her,
of Laneham's letter printed; and the arrayed all in silks, awaited her highness's
present improved edition has been taken coming from the midst of the pool,
from a careful collation of the best, with where, upon a moveable island, bright
such revisions and improvements as blazing with torches, she floated to land,
might best qualify it for general read- and met her Majesty with a well-penned
ing. Indeed this was necessary, for metre and matter after this sort [viz.]
Laneham's sentences are often so meta- had been owners of the same e'en till this
First, of the ancestry of the castle, who
phorical, or constructed of such singu-day, most always in the hands of the Earls
lar expressions, that they would lead of Leicester; how she had kept this lake
the plain and general reader to doubt since King Arthur's days; and now, un-
what was his true meaning.
derstanding of her highness's hither com-
ing, thought it both her office and duty
in humble wise to discover her and her
estate; offering up the same, her lake,
and power therein, with promise of repair
unto the court. It pleased her highness
to thank this lady, and to add withall:
"We had thought indeed the lake had
been ours, and do you call it yours now?
Well, we will herein commune more with
you hereafter."

·

In our review of Kenilworth,' we stated that the festivities given by the Earl of Leicester on the Queen's visit were passed over very slightly; Laneham has, however, given an ample detail of them, which we shall briefly notice.

This pageant was closed up with a delectable harmony of hautboys, shalms, cornets, and such other loud music, that held on while her Majesty pleasantly so passed from thence toward the castlegate; whereunto, from the base-court, a dry valley cast into a good form, there was framed a fair bridge of twenty feet wide, and seventy feet long, gravelled for treading, railed on either part with seven posts on a side, that stood twelve feet asunder, thickened between with well-proportioned turned pillars.

over

On the

wine. The fifth pair had each a fair large
tray, strewed with fresh grass; and in
them conger, burt, mullet, fresh herrings,
oysters, salmon, crevis, and such like,
sixth pair of posts were set two ragged
from Neptunus, god of the sea.
staves of silver, as my lord gives them in
his arms, beautifully glittering of armour,
thereupon depending bows, arrows,
spears, shield, head-piece, gorget, cors-
lets, swords, targets, and such like, for
Mars' gifts, the god of war. And the apt-
lier (methought) was it that those ragged
as well because these staves by their tines
staves supported these martial presents,
seem naturally meet for the bearing of
armour, as also that they chiefly in this
place might take upon them the principal
protection of her highness's person, that
so benignly pleased her to take harbour.
On the seventh posts, the last and next
to the castle, where there pight two fair
bay branches of four feet high, adorned
on all sides with lutes, viols, shalms, cor-
nets, flutes, recorders, and harps, as the
presents of Phoebus, the god of music, for
rejoicing the mind, and also of physic,
for health to the body.'

Music and fireworks closed this day's proceedings. On the following day (Sunday), the morning was occupied in divine service, and preaching at the parish church;' the afternoon in excellent music of sundry sweet instruments, and in dancing of lords and ladies and other worshipful degrees:

Queen Elizabeth, on visiting Kenilworth, was met at some distance from the castle by a sybil comely clad in a pall of white silk,' who pronounced a proper poesy in English rhyme and metre: of effect, how great gladness her goodness' presence brought to every stead where it pleased her to come, and especially now into that place that had so long longed after the same.' On reaching the next gate, à porter At night late, as though Jupiter the tall of person, big of limb, and stern last night had forgot for business, or forof countenance, wrapped also all in borne for courtesy and quiet, part of his silk, with a club and keys of quantity acwelcome unto her highness appointed, Upon the first pair of posts were set now entering at the first into his purpose cording, had a rough speech, full of pas- two comely square wire cages, three feet moderately (as mortals do) with a warnsions, in metre aptly made to the pur-long, and two feet wide; and high in ing piece or two, proceeding on with inpose.' After first hesitating to give ad- them live bitterns, curlews, shovelers, crease, till at last the Altitonant [i. e. mission, he proclaims' open gates and hernshaws, godwits, and such like dainty High Thunderer,] displays me his main free passage to all, yields up his club, birds, of the presents of Sylvanus, the god power; with blaze of burning darts flyhis keys, his office, and all, and on his of fowl. On the second pair two great ing to and fro, leams of stars coruscant, knees humbly prays pardon of his ig- silvered bowls, featly apted to the pur-streams and hail of fiery sparks, lightnings norance and impatience, which her pose, filled with apples, pears, cherries, of wildfire on water and land, flight and Highness graciously grantingfilberds, walnuts, fresh upon their branch-shooting of thunderbolts, all with such es, and with oranges, pomegranates, leHe caused his trumpeters that stood mons, and pippins, all for the gifts of Poupon the wall of the gate, there to sound mona, goddess of fruits. The third pair up a tune of welcome; which, beside the of posts, in two such silvered bowls, had noble noise, was so much the more plea- (all in ears green and old) wheat, barley, sant to behold, because these trumpeters, oats, beans, and pease, as the gifts of Cebeing six in number, were every one eight res. The fourth post, on the left hand, in feet high, in due proportion of person be- a like silvered bowl, had grapes in clusside, all in long garments of silk suitable, ters, white and red, gracified with their each with his silvery trumpet of five feet vine leaves: the match post against it had long, formed taper-wise, and straight from a pair of great white silver livery pots for the upper part unto the lower end, where wine and before them two glasses of the diameter was sixteen inches over; good capacity, filled full; the one with and yet so tempered by art, that being white wine, the other with claret, so fresh very easy to the blast, they cast forth no of colour, and of look so lovely, smiling greater noise, nor a more unpleasant sound to the eye of many, that by my faith mefor time and tune, than any other com-thought, by their leering, they could have mon trumpet, be it never so artificially found in their hearts, (as the evening was formed. These harmonious blasters, from hot,) to have kissed them sweetly and the foreside of the gate, at her highness' thought it no sin: and these were the poentrance, where they began walking upon tencial presents of Bacchus, the god of

continuance, terror, and vehemency, that the heavens thundered, the waters surged, the earth shook, and in such sort surely, as had we not been assured that the fulminant deity was all hot in amity, and could not otherwise testify his welcome unto her highness, it would have made me for my part, as hardy as I am, very vengeably afraid. This ado lasted until the midnight was passed, that it seemed well with me soon after, when I found me in my cabin.'

On the Monday, the Queen went to the chace at five o'clock in the evening, when the hart was killed, a goodly deer,' but this did not terminate the

sport:

'For about nine o'clock, at the hither * In the other early copy "strewed a little with fresh grass.”

by answers thus to utter all. And I shall
tell you, Master Martin, by the mass, of
a mad adventure-As this savage, for the
more submission, broke his tree asunder,
and cast the top from him, it had almost
light upon her highness's horse's head;
whereat he startled, and the gentleman
much dismayed. See the benignity of
the prince: as the footmen looked well
to the horse, and he of generosity soon
calmed of himself No hurt, no
hurt," quoth her highness. Which words,
I promise you, we were all glad to hear,
and took them to be the best part of the
play.'

part of the chase, where torch light at-
tended, out of the woods, in her majes-
ty's return, there came roughly forth
Hombre Salvagio [i. e. a savage man,]
with an oaken plant plucked up by the
roots in his hand, himself foregrown all in
moss and ivy; who, for personage, ges-
ture, and utterance beside, countenanced
the matter to very good liking; and had
speech to this effect:-That continuing
so long in these wild wastes, wherein of
had he fared both far and near, yet
happed he never to see so glorious an as-
sembly before: and now cast into great
grief of mind, for that neither by himself
could he guess, nor knew where else to Hunting, bear-baiting, &c., occu-
be taught, what they should be, or who pied the succeeding days of the first
bare estate. Reports, some had he heard week until the Sunday, when there was
of many strange things, but broiled there-a fruitful sermon in the forenoon.'

by so much the more in desire of know- In the afternoon, a solemn bridal of wind as there was, for he carried it aloft:

a proper couple was appointed,' which
gives so good a picture of the rural
festivities of the times, and is so quaint-
ly described, that we cannot forbear
quoting it :-

Then followed the worshipful bride, led, after the country manner, between two ancient parishioners, honest towns

house) before the bride, Cicely, with set countenance and lips so demurely simpering, as it had been a mare cropping of a thistle. After these, a lovely looberworts, freckle-faced, red-headed, clean trussed in his doublet and his hose, taken up now indeed by commission, for that he was loath to come forward, for reverence belike of his new cut canvas doublet; and would by his good will have been but a gazer, but found to be a meet actor for his office; that was to bear the bride-cup, formed of a sweet sucket barrel, a fair turned foot set to it, all seemly besilvered and parcell gilt adorned with a beautiful branch of broom, gaily begilded for rosemary: from which two broad bride-laces of red and yellow buckram begilded, and gallantly streaming by such ledge. Thus, in great pangs, bethought this gentle cup-bearer had his freckled he, and called he upon all his familiars physiognomy somewhat unhappily infestand companions, the fawns, the satyrs, the ed, as he went, by the busy fiies, that nymphs, the dryades, and the hamadryflocked about the bride-cup, for the ades; but none making answer, whereby sweetness of the sucket that it savoured his care the more increasing, in utter grief of; but he, like a tall fellow, withstood and extreme refuge, called he aloud at 'First, all the lusty lads and bold ba-their malice stoutly-see what manhood last after his old friend Echo, that he wist chelors of the parish, suitably habited may do-beat them away, killed them by would hide nothing from him, but tell every wight, with his blue buckram bride- scores, stood to his charge, and marched him all, if she were here. "Here" (quoth lace upon a branch of green broom (be-on in good order. Echo.)" Here, Echo, and art thou there?" cause rosemary is scant there) tied on his (says he) "Ah! how much hast thou re- left arm, for on that side lies the heart; lieved my careful spirits with thy courtesy and his alder pole for a spear in his right onward. Ay me, good Echo, here is a hand, in martial order ranged on afore, men. But a stale stallion and a well marvellous presence of dignity; what are two and two in a rank: some with a hat, spread (hot as the weather was,) God wot, they, I pray thee, who is sovereign, tell some in a cap, some a coat, some a jerkin, and ill-smelling was she: thirty years me, I beseech thee, or else how might I some for lightness, in doublet and hose, old, of colour brown-bay, not very know?" "I know," (quoth she.) "Know-clean trussed with points afore; some beautiful indeed, but ugly, foul, and iffest thou?" says he; "marry, that is exboots and no spurs, this spurs and no favored; yet marvellous fond of the of ceedingly well: Why then, I desire thee, boots, and he again neither one nor other: fice, because she heard say she should heartily show me what majesty, for no one had a saddle, another a pad or a pan-dance before the Queen, in which feast mean degree is it) have we here: a King, nel fastened with a cord, for girths were she thought she would foot it as finely as or a Queen?" "A Queen!" (quoth geazon: and these, to the number of six- the best. Well, after this bride there Echo.) A Queen!" says he, pausing, teen wights, riding men and well beseen: came, by two and two, a dozen damsels and wisely viewing awhile, now full but the bridegroom foremost in his fa- for bride-maids, that for favour, attire, certainly seems thy tale to be true." ther's tawny worsted jacket, (for his for fashion and cleanliness, were as meet And proceeding by this manner of dia- friends were fain that he should be a for such a bride as a tureen ladle for a logue, with an earnest beholding her high-bride-groom before the Queen) a fair porridge-pot: more, but for fear of carry. ness awhile, recounts he, first, how justly straw hat with a capital crown, steeple- ing all clean, had been appointed, but that former reports agree with his present wise on his head; a pair of harvest gloves these few were enough. sight, touching the beautiful lineaments on his hands, as a sign of good husbandry; 'As the company in this order, were of countenance, the comely proportion of a pen and ink-horn at his back, for he come into the court, marvellous were the body, the princely grace of presence, the would be known to be bookish: lame of martial acts that were done there that day, gracious gifts of nature, with the rare and a leg that in his youth was broken at foot-The bride-groom, for pre-eminence, had singular qualities of both body and mind ball; well beloved of his mother, who the first course at the quintain, and broke in her majesty conjoined, and so apparent lent him a new muffler for a napkin, that his spear with true hardiment; but his at eye. Then shortly rehearsing Satur- was tied to his girdle for losing it. It was mare in her manege did a little so tituday's acts, of Sybil's salutation; of the no small sport to mark this minion in his bate, that much ado had his manhood to porter's proposition; of his trumpeter's full appointment, that, through good tui- sit in his saddle, and escape the foil of a music; of the lake lady's oration, and of tion, became as formal in his action as fall; with the help of his hand, yet he rethe seven gods' seven presents, he report- had he been a bride-groom indeed; with covered himself, and lost not his stirrups, ed the incredible joy that all estates in this special grace by the way, that ever (for he had none to his saddle,) had no the land have always of her highness as he would have framed to himself the hurt as it happened, but only that his wheresoever she came; ending with pre- better countenance, with the worst face girth burst, and lost his pen and ink-horn, sage and prayer of perpetual felicity, and he looked. which he was ready to weep for: but his with humble subjection of him and his, 'Well, sir, after these horsemen, a handkercher, as good hap was, found he and all that they may do. After this sort lively morrice-dance according to the an- safe at his girdle. that cheered him somethe matter went, with little difference, I cient manner: six dancers, maid-marian, what, and had good regard it should not guess, saving only in this point, that the and the fool. Then three pretty pucelles, be soiled. For though heat and cold had, thing which I here report in unpolished as bright as a breast of bacon, af thirty upon sundry occasions, made him someprose, was there pronounced in good me- years old a-piece; that carried three spe- times to sweat, and sometimes rheumatic, tre and matter, very well endited in cial spice-cakes of a bushel of wheat (they * The other early copy reads "thirty-five rhyme. Echo finely framed, most aptly, had by measure, out of my lord's bake-years old."

yet durst he be bolder to blow his nose

..........

and wipe his face with the flappet of his Original Communications.
father's jacket, than with his mother's
muffler: 'tis a goodly matter, when youth
are mannerly brought up, in fatherly love
and motherly awe.

ABSENCE OF MIND.

different

Lessing.-The justly celebrated. Lessing was frequently very absent. Having missed money at times without being able to discover who took it, he determined to put the honesty of his servant to a trial, and left a handful of gold on his table. Of course you counted it,' said one Counted it,' said

La Fontaine.-When this poet went THE BURIAL SERVICE. to Versailles, to present his Fables to To the Editor of the Literary Chronicle. the King, it appeared, after he had deNow, sir, after the bride-groom bad SIR, Of all the formula of the Li-livered a very good address, that he made his course, ran the rest of the band turgy of the Church of England, there had forgotten the book. awhile in some order; but soon after, tag is no part of it so grand and sacred as and rag, cut and long tail: where the spe-the burial service; none so truly imcialty of the sport was, to see how some pressive, or so well calculated to exfor their slackness had a good bob with cite religious feelings in the human the bag; and some for their haste, too, would topple down-right, and come down heart. For this reason, I think it wortumbling to the post. Some striving so thy of the special consideration of the much at the first setting out, that it seem- highest dignitaries of its establishment, ed a question between the man and the to make an erratum for the following beast, whether the course should be made sentence, which is said by the priest, on horseback or on foot; and put forth in sure and certain hope of the resur-Lessing, rather embarrassed, ‘no; I with the spurs, then would run his race rection,' &c. forgot that.' by as among the thickest of the throng, that down came they together, hand over head. Another, while he directed his course to the quintain, his jument would carry him to a mare among the people; so his horse was as amorous as himself adventurous. Another, too, would run and miss the quintain with his staff, and hit the board with his head.

of his friends.

As a member of the religion of this In a public sale, there was a book country, I do not think it right that which Lessing was very desirous of posHe gave three of his friends, there should not be some distinction sessing. made between a truly good man and a at different times, a commission to buy notoriously wicked man. The above it at any price. They accordingly bid sentence is twice said at the grave, and, against each other till they had got as in addition to its repetition, We give far as ninety crowns; there having thee hearty thanks for that it hath been no other bidder after it had reach pleased thee to deliver this our brother ed ten crowns. Happily, one of them out of the miseries of this sinful world, thought it best to speak to the others, beseeching thee that it may please thee, when it appeared that they had all of thy gracious goodness, shortly to been bidding for Lessing, whose foraccomplish the number of thine elect,'getfulness, in this instance, cost him eighty crowns.

Many such frolicsome games were there among these riders; who, by and by afterwards, upon a greater courage, left their quintaining, and ran at one another. There to see the stern countenances, the grim looks, the courageous attempts, the desperate adventures, the dangerous | &c, curvets, the fierce encounters, whereby the buff at the man, and the counterbuff at the horse, that both sometimes came topling to the ground. By my troth, Master Martin, twas a lively pastime; I believe it would have moved a man to a right merry mood, though it had been told him that his wife lay dying.'

Having thus noticed the principal sports, we must now take our leave of Master Robert Laneham, 6 mercer, merchant, adventurer, and clerk of the council chamber door, and also keeper of the same,' to say something of the present editor, who has put him into a dress which makes him more perfectly understood. The glossarial and explanatory notes are a very valuable appendage to Laneham's letter, and display much antiquarian research, and an intimate acquaintance with the peculiar manners and customs of the age of Elizabeth. As illustrative of the romance of Kenilworth, the present volume is very interesting, and ought to be bound up with it. The editor has also given the original story on which the romance is founded, and Mickle's ballad of Cumnor Hall, which is not printed in the collected works of that poet.

* See Literary Chronicle, No. 87.

Would it not be more appropriate
to omit such incongruities, or so to
amend the Liturgy as to give it a more
unexceptionable tone to the true spirit
of devotion and truth? I presume so.

The Quakers have the decided ad-
vantage in this, as also in the reading
of their Scriptures to their children, to
shield them from the dangers so pro-
perly noticed by 'A PARENT,' in
ninety-third number. This is one of
the features of the Lancasterian sys-
tem of education to youth, which Dr.
Bell has not avoided in toto.

your

Another of your respectable writers, signed L.,' in the above number, has written on epitaphs: I would offer this letter as an addendum to both, by observing, how improper it is that eulogies should be continually delivered at the grave, by ministers, who are selected to officiate, without knowing, sometimes, even the sex or age of the deceased, for a fee, a hatband, and a pair of gloves.'

Let not, Sir, churchmen and dissent-
ers cry out against Rome and its abo-
ninations, while they retain so much
of the old leaven of Popery and con-
tinue similar practices, though contra-
ry to their professions.

I am, Sir, your's with respect,
PULVIS.

An absent man dining with a gentleman and his sister, the latter fainted at table; which our blunderer, without thinking, imputed to her being in the way which women wish to be who love You are rather out their lords,'

there, my friend,' said his host, my sister has been a widow these three years.'-'I really beg your pardon,' exclaimed the other; I thought she was a spinster.'

Mr. A**** receives a letter, he knows the hand-writing, he wants to read it in haste-it is already dark, he strikes a light, tears a paper, and lights a taper, but the letter is gone-he had used it to light the candle!

The Memoirs of Count Tessin, lately published at Stockholm, contain the following anecdote:- Of all the absent people I ever knew in Sweden, the most remarkable was the late Chancellor Baron Nolkin. Two instances deserve to be related. Once, when he had to read to His Royal Highness Prince Adolphus Frederick, (now King,) a report of the privy council, he very gravely took out of his pocket the lease of his house, which he had nearly read to the end, till the remarks of the prince, at last, made him sensible of his mistake. Another time, he came into his Royal Highness's an

ti-chamber, where I was with several of-
ficers, and asked for Count Tessin; I
answered him myself, but he went out
in a very great hurry, and came back
and said, the officer in waiting affirms
that he is in the room. I answered,
your lordship will believe me, I hope,
for I have myself seen the count go out
of the room.'
Nolkin went out a se-
cond time, and came back again with a
new assurance of the officer in waiting,
on which a general laugh ensued, which
waked him out of his dream.'

Alexander Cruden, the author of the Concordance, was very intimate with the famous Dr. Bradbury, a zealous dissenting clergyman. The doctor had one evening prepared an excellent supper for several friends; at the moment it was served on the table, Mr. Cruden made his appearance in the room heated with walking. The doctor's favourite dish, a turkey, was smoking at one end of the table, and before the company could be seated, Cruden advanced, put back his wig, and with both hands plunged in the gravy, he calmly washed his hands and his face over the bird, to the no small mortification of the doctor and his company.

consider her performance of Virginia | and pathetic, and give strong indicacompletely perfect; nothing can ex- tions of future talent. ceed her excellence when, reluctantly, and with all the bashfulness of a young No. XIV.-MRS. FAUCIT. and timid maiden, she confesses her WE know of no actress who has made love for Icilius; her scenes with her such rapid strides towards perfection, father are not less worthy of commen- in the last two seasons, as Mrs. Faucit; dation. Her exquisite performance of it is true she is not always equally exthis character has induced us to think cellent in all her efforts, but in some that she would appear to great advan-characters so faithful is she to nature, tage in the love-inspiring Juliet. Ten- so fanciful, so vigorous are her delinederness in tragedy and sprightliness in ations, that she leaves most of her comcomedy are this lady's peculiar forte; peers at a distance. Pre-eminent she has not strength enough either of among these stands her Elspeth, in the voice, features, or person, to express Antiquary. The author of 'Waverley' vehement passions; it will, therefore, obviously finds an old woman indisbe evident, that she is excellently pensable, at least in his novels, and adapted for the pathos, the calm, the Elspeth is Meg Merrilies grown deaf, meek endurance of grief, which the blind, and every thing but dumb. Mantuan heroine, amid all her severe Mrs. Faucit plays it with singular imand innumerable trials, exhibits. She pressiveness; indeed, we believe we plays Cordelia tolerably, but Coveut may venture to affirm, without fear of Garden is sadly in want of an actress contradiction, that we have no other pereven in its characters of youth and former on the stage who could have beauty. We will not be so ungallant done it so much justice. She looks and as to omit her representation of the fair dresses the character completely to the Isidora, the lovely Duchess of Miran-life, and, from being a fine comely wo dola;' nor so unjust as to forget her man of five and thirty, transforms her Maria Darlington. In the former cha- person, with the utmost fidelity, into racter, her first interview with Guido an old, withered, decrepit, shrivelled was replete with pathos and fervent hag of upwards of a century. We nefeeling, and in the fifth act, she sur- ver recollect any performance of the passed our most sanguine expectations; kind so inimitably excellent. in the latter, she affects insanity, sings," and waltzes à merveille. In Imogen she looks well, particularly in her male attire, but her execution is by no means equal to her conception. In Mary, Queen of Scots, so far as personal beauty was concerned, she made the WERE we to indulge ourselves in re- character far more interesting than Miss tracing all the beauties of Miss Foote; Macauley, but, in all other respects, she her heavenly beaming smile, the soft was sadly inferior. She plays Fanny, expression of her dove-like eyes, and in the Clandestine Marriage,' prether other thousand fascinating attractily, though she is somewhat too rigid tions, instead of writing a criticism, we should, undoubtedly, launch forth into the most extravagant panegyric, but Justice must not partial trophies raise, Nor sink the actress in the woman's praise.' To deny that Miss Foote is more than language can express, or youthful poets fancy when they love,' would be as ridiculous as to affirm

Original Criticisms

ON

The Principal Performers of the Theatres
Royal Drury Lane & Covent Garden.

No. XIII.-MISS FOOTE
'Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye,
In ev'ry gesture dignity and love.'-MILTON.

That Mrs. Faucit possesses considerable talent, will be evident from her admirable performances both in young as well as old characters. In Lady Racket, she gives us a faithful portrait, fresh with life and reality, and this too without any exaggeration or heightened colouring, to produce effect. In Ulrica she exhibits, with great skill, that wild infuriate passion, so powerfully drawn by the highly talented author of Ivanhoe. But in all her studies, for sentimental comedy. But, in cha- this lady should never attempt the tenracters of archness, she is most happy. der, whining maiden-as Virgilia, or Among these, her Sophia, in the Ren- Cora, or even Virginia; her peculiar dezvous,' an apparently half-witted, excellence consists in the boldness of but really sly girl, deserves favourable her execution, and the vehemence of mention. She really surprized us by her action; it is, therefore, clear that her performance of Bertha, in the she is completely misplaced in charac'Point of Honour;' in the prison ters of tenderness or feminine weakscene she exhibited considerable feel-ness. We cannot say that we admire that her acting, or her conception of ing, and the hysterical laugh which her Juliet or Lady Macbeth; but of character, is as perfect as her person. followed the gradual recovery of her this latter character we may say the The principal fault of this interesting senses, was perfectly true to nature. same of all our actresses. She has a actress is an intolerable ogle, and a per-We have heard that this lady either has, laborious part in Adela, in the Warpetual languishing elevation of the or shortly intends to retire from the lock of the Glen,' but she plays it with eye. All this is extremely weak and stage; we trust that this is but an great spirit. The sight of females frivolous, and is as much as saying, in empty rumour, as, although she is far rending themselves to fragments, and other words, to the audience, I have from being in the first class, she is cer- out-screaming the ravens of the night, undoubtedly fine eyes, and am certainly an improving performer, and is not among our pleasures; but, in me tainly a most lovely creature. Were her representations of some characters, lodrame, such things must be done, and it not for this affectation, we should though not chef d'œuvres, are chaste it is Mrs. Faucit's praise to say, that no

HOPE.

BRIGHT is yon sun that gilds the sky,

But not as Hope so bright;
The one but charms the wandering eye,

The other lifts the soul on high,

And feasts it with delight,
Pure as the snow on Andes height,
And kindly as the breeze,
That skims, in wanton pastime light,

In summer o'er the seas;

Yet still comparisons like these
But poorly tell its bliss;

For nought but Hope the wretch can please,
Nought else can give his bosom ease,
J. D.
And point to happiness.

TO A YOUNG LADY,
With a Bunch of Snow-Drops.
THERE is in friendship's gift a charm,
Though known but to a favoured few,
That may the coldest bosom warm,

A pledge of love for ever true;
Such, my dear girl, accept from me,

person can do them better. We could wish that all the commendations elicited by this lady's performances, were attended by favourable reminiscences of the pieces themselves. We recollect a melodrame, now justly consigned to the tomb of all the Capulets, entitled the Castle of Paluzzi,' in which Mrs. Faucit performed the heroine with unexampled excellence. In the last scene, when fluctuating between terror and the dread of breaking the oath that had been extorted from her, she displayed genius of the very first order; it was only lamentable that such acting should have been lavished on so miserable a drama. She performs Isabella, that female lago, in Mirandola, with great excellence; her duplicity is finely carried on, and in the concluding Tis all I now dare offer thee. scene, where, her guilty designs being These scentless flowers, of tender form, divulged, she throws off the mask, and I cull'd from 'neath yon pear-tree's bough, displays a mind of demoniacal deformi-Pale offspring of the wintry storm, ty, her acting is so powerful, and her representation so perfect and forcible, that the audience really appear desirous of losing sight of so incarnate a fiend. She enacts Julia, in the Rivals, with great judgment; Ravina, admirably; and does all that is possible for the exquisitely beautiful, though terribly undramatic characterthe Lady, in Comus. This lady's greatest commendation is the zeal which she manifests in every part that is allotted her; she gives us the true spirit of her author; she is useful both to the manager and the audience, for if she undertakes a character not originally known, she gives us very many of its beauties; indeed, with constant application, we doubt not, in a very few years, to see her at the very summit of W. H. PARRY. her profession.

Original Poetry.

TO HARRIET.

On her asking the Author what made him so low-spirited?'

COULD language paint the dire distress

That in my bosom reigns,

Or shew the anguish of a breast
That's rent with torturing pains,

I'd tell thee how, in evil hour,
A violent storm came o'er,

And struck to earth my favourite flower-
It fell to rise no more!

Fain would I tell thee, how this heart

With grief is sore oppress'd

How hard a task it is to part
With those we lov'd the best!
Alas! she's gone, all words are vain,-
They will not ease the smart;
But her dear image will remain
For ever in this heart!

J. W. JUN.

Bedropt with ice and clothed in snow;
Yet, oh! how sweet do they appear,
First promise of the opening year.
Like thee, in iunocence arrayed,
With modest beauty meek they shone;
Be now their modest worth repaid,

Nor blush, fair maid, the deed to own,
That, when the storm o'er tower and tree
Ranged wild, they were preserved by thee.
Then take them to thy virgin breast,

That breast that fears no rival foe;
And, of thy fostering care possest,
Let them in native beauty blow,
While each shall to the other give
A charm that bids both chaster live.

THE SYCOPHANT.

ALPHEUS.

MARK yonder fawning hound! in whose vile face
Each dastard feeling of the soul we trace.
With cringing look he stands beside the board,
A servile flatt'rer to a courtly lord;
Behold how low he bends his abject knees,
Using each mean detested art to please:
Is Claudio sick, or does he keep his bed-
He too is languid, he too droops his head;
When Claudio's ill, can Sylvio's heart be glad?
Can he be happy when his lord is sad?
No; 'tis not possible, he feels it deep,
His heart, he cries, impels his eyes to weep.
Is Claudio lively, does he join the glee,-
He smiles in concert, lively too is he.
Does any of his slaves their lord offend-
With Claudio's brows his own in anger bend.
Does the day shine, or is its splendour dim,
As 'tis with Claudio, so it is with him.
If chance his lord some paltry letter write,-
He, smiling cries, how well he can indite.
If some mean verse he makes, that verse he'll
praise,

And strait declare him worthy of the bays.
E'en should his lord for music have no ear,
He'll say his voice is sweet, his judgment clear;
Or if at eve he seeks the silent grove,
Thither his servile steps are sure to rove.
He'll bless the spot, and with a lofty tone,
Swear it was made for Claudio alone;
Each look, each action, does his eye imbibe,
A sycophant the meanest of his tribe.

SAM SPRITSAIL.

Has oft his sea of difficulties past,

And reached his loved, his destined home at
last.

Though he once more essay the path of pain,
Give him your aid, and he'll succeed again.
One word for him, who Florian's woes shall
speak,

And dry the tear which dews a mother's cheek.
In his behalf assembled here we see,

4

Of fair and dark, a goodly company:
Your very presence shews a gen'rous heart;
Your plaudits constitute the other part.
In former times, by tokens such as these,
You've stilled, his throbbing heart, and given
it ease;
For favours present,
favours past, receive
The warmest thanks a grateful soul can give:
And with himself some others he'd include,
Who thank you, though in silent gratitude.
When retrospection shall recal to-night,
May it produce no feeling but delight:
So your support its own reward shall prove,
And Florian still be debtor to your love.
L.
February, 1821.

Fine Arts.

MR. HAYDON'S PICTURE CHRIST'S AGONY IN THE GARDEN.

OF

MR. HAYDON is an artist of whose talents public opinion is becoming more unanimous than formerly; indeed, to deny talents-extraordinary talents, to an individual who could produce Christ's Entry into Jerusalem,' would argue want of taste and judgment, or would discover a very strong prejudice. The new picture of 'Christ's Agony' has, we understand, been designed and finished in the short period of twelve months; and, although the private view of it was too late in the week to allow a detailed criticism, yet we shall briefly notice it this week, and return to the subject when more at leisure. It appeared to us that the worst part of the painting is the principal figure; but the attributes of Deity, however glowing to the imagination, are beyond the reach of the pencil. Our Saviour is represented in the foreground, praying. The artist has aimed,