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ly when she is grieved; but we hope Ah! train up a bondman never to so good that she never is grieved.

a behaviour, Damon and Pythias. This seems Yet, in some point of servilitie, he will sato us to be but a bare subject for a

vour: tragedy, and yet there have been two

As this Stephano, trustie to mee his master, written upon it. The first is by an

lovyng and kinde, old writer, of the name of Edwards,

Yet, touching his belly, a very bondman I

him finde. and is one of the earliest and rudest specimens of the English drama. It It would be tedious to the reader, is full of anachronisms and inconsis

were we to favour him with much of tencies of all sorts. The names of this dialogue; but, unpolished and the persons represented are partly rugged as these lines are, there are ancient Greek, partly English, and one or two lyrics which are remarkthe rest modern Italian-Damon, Py- ably soft and musical. Here is a thias, Will, Jack, Stephano, &c., stanza from one of them. who, besides the regular dialogue, quote good Latin verses, (we be The losse of worldly wealth lieve, Virgil's) and jabber French. Man's wisdom may restore, Grimm, the collyer, born at Croy And physick hath provided, too, don, (the scene is at Syracuse) is

A salve for every sore: guilty of the last-mentioned fact, and

But my true friend once lost; he speaks of " vortie shillings," and

No art can well supply,

Then what a death is this to heare ! pairs of spectacles, and clocks, and

Damon, my friend, must die.
other matters, which we had held to
be somewhat later inventions.

We will now leave the old drama,
The style of this play, is uncouth and proceed to the new one.

« Daand harsh, and yet there is something mon and Pythias” is written partly of character in one or two of the by a Mr. Banim, and partly by Mr. dramatis persone. Carisophus, the

Shiel, the amiable author of Evadne. parasite, is a fair specimen of a spy, We do not think this play so good as and seems to understand surveillance, the last production of Mr. Shiel; some and how to swear away a man's life; of the situations are striking and draand Aristippus," a pleasant gentil, matic, but the dialogue is by no man,” as he is called, argues himself

means equal, we think, to many paspleasantly enough into his own good sages which might be quoted from graces.

he

says, Evadne. It would be, perhaps, Perhaps it seems strange

scarcely fair to judge either of the That I, Aristippus, a courtier am become; authors by this their joint performwho was late no mean philosopher; ance, notwithstanding the success but, he adds :

with which Beaumont and Fletcher Lovers of wisdom are termed philosophers. We are the more induced to think

are known to have written together. I am wyse for myself, then tell me of troth, thus, because we know what Mr. Is not that great wisdom, as the world goth. Shiel has done, and can do singly;

But Stephano, Damon's serving and Mr. Banim, is, we believe, the man, does not relish philosophy. In author of an interesting poem,

called the boldness of his hunger, he says: " The Celt's Paradise.' We must Surely, for all your talk of philosophie,

not be understood, however, to speak I never heard that a man with words could of this tragedy as one at all void of fill his belly :

merit; on the contrary, there are On which his master remonstrates, many pleasing passages, and some and he replies:

good ones. There is something hearty Dam. Ah! Stephano, small diet maketh hails Calanthe on her wedding day:

and fine in the way in which Damon a fine memorie. Steph. I care not for your craftie sophis

Calanthe, trie,

The blessing and the bounty of the gods You two are fine, let mee be fed like a grose Be with you, over you, and all about you ; knave still.

and the following is a sweet piece of Damon consoles himself with this description, though perhaps too reflection :

much elaborated for a play.

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" To some,"

sea,

A dell, made of green beauty;' with its but we did not see either of those shrubs

entertainments. We forbore going Of aromatic sweetness, growing up to see Mrs. Glover entirely out of a The rugged mountain's sides, as cunningly tender consideration for her, (yet we As the nice structure of a little nest, Built by two loving nightingales. The wind Elliston's tickets were one pound five

hear that she played well,) and Mr. That comes here, full of rudeness from the

shillings each :--we drank our coffee Is lulled into a balmy breath of peace,

at a cheaper house. His brilliant The moment that it enters; and 'tis said, illumination we saw for nothing, and By the Sicilian shepherds, that their songs

his · Blue Devils' we had witnessed Have in this place a wilder melody.

before. The mountains all about it are the haunts The farces which are acted at this Of many a fine romantic memory! theatre are generally good and well High towers old Etna, with his feet deep got up,'-better perhaps, than at clad

the other house. Harley is good, and In the green sandals of the freshful spring; Knight is good, His sides arrayed in winter, and bis front Shooting aloft the everlasting flame.

A lass is good, and a glass is good — On the right hand, &c. &c. There is also a really pathetic is the hero of Afterpiece. As we have

Miss Kelly is good also, and Munden scene between Damon and his wife said that a good tragedy is difficult Hermion, in the fourthi act; though to achieve, so will we say that a good that is laboured too much, in our farce is not easily to be accomopinion: yet it opens well.

plished. Dam. Have I in all my life Given thee an angry look, a word, or been

Last month, the Queen descendAn unkind mate, my Hermion ? Herm. Never, the gods know, never.

ed upon the theatres, -veiled in a

shower of shadowing roses,' (or feaAnd had all been thus simple, we thers) to the astonishment of the macould have given the play far more pagers, who knew not how to receive praise than we have now done. On her. At Drury Lane, she was greetthe whole, “ Damon and Pythias” ed by the audience, we are told, but betrays evident marks of real dra- received with moderate ardour by matic skill, in the situations, in the Mr. Elliston. At Covent Garden conduct of the plot, (excepting only (where we saw her) the audience Nicias, who is superfluous altoge- certainly felt a divided duty, some ther), in the way in which the inte- shouting the King,' and others the rest is suspended, and frequently in Queen, while Mr. Harris and Mr. the dialogue: indeed, there is too Fawcett, profound in politics, docti much of abruptness (or transition) in magistri, were entirely quiescent. the speeches; for though that has its For our own parts, though we medeffect on the stage, it looks but ill in dle but little with politics, (hating print, and should be used sparingly the heated and perilous atmosphere at all times. Macready and Charles that surrounds them), we felt that Kemble played excellently well in the queen presented a melancholy. this tragedy: though the first gen- spectacle. She went to Covent Gartleman has, beyond doubt, the most den, without having given previous difficult and important part; and notice of her intention, and conseMiss Foote looked and played like quently no preparation had been an angel. We did not like Miss made to receive her. She was poorly Dance. Mr. Abbot topped his part attended, and sate on the front seat pleasantly in Dionysius. There was of one of the common boxes:- she no new scenery. Although we heard sate alone, without any of the marks talk of Etna, we did not see it. or distinction of a queen, like a per

son cut off from society, but without

the advantages of illustrious birth. There has not been any novelty Her's was the solitude of royalty here worth recording. Mrs. Glover, without the splendour that flatters indeed, has played Hamlet!! and and deceives it. We hate, we reMr. Elliston has given a masquerade, peat it, politics of all sorts ;-we are

DRURY LANE.

not radicals, nor tories, nor even ful to witness such a din as arose whigs; but we are men with some within the courtly walls of Covent pity in our constitutions, and we were Garden, where even the magician absolutely sickened at the obstrepe- Prospero was forgotten; and the exrous folly of some of our neighbours, quisite beauty of the delicate Ariel, who were shouting “ king,-king.” (who had cunningly stolen the shape The expression of popular feeling is a of Miss Foote) was utterly disrefine thing, and should never be con-, garded. trolled—in the street; but it is pain

Thor Hood

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TO HOPE.
TAKE, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.

0! take thy harp!
Oh! sing as thou wert wont to do,
When, all youth's sunny season long,
I sat and listen’d to thy song,
And yet 'twas ever, ever new.-
With magic in each hear'n-tun'd string,
The future bliss thy constant theme.
Oh then each little woe took wing
Away, like phantoms of a dream;

As if each sound,

That flutter'd round,
Had floated over Lethe's stream!
By all those bright and happy hours
We spent in life's sweet eastern bow'rs,
Where thou would'st sit and smile, and show,
Ere buds were comewhere flow'rs would blow,
And oft anticipate the rise
Of life's warm sun that-scal'd the skies,
By many a story of love and glory,
And friendships promis'd oft to me,
By all the faith I lent to thee,
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily ;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.

0! take thy harp!
Perchance the strings will sound less clear,
That long have lain neglected by
In sorrow's misty atmosphere-
It ne'er may speak as it hath spoken,
Such joyous notes so brisk and high ;
But are its golden cords all broken?
Are there not some, though weak and low,
To play a lullaby to woe?
But thou can'st sing of love no imore,
For Celia show'd that dream was vain
And many a fancied bliss is o'er,
That comes not e'en in dreams again.

Alas! alas!

How pleasures pass,
And leave thee now no subject, save
The peace and bliss beyond the grave !

H

Vol. Il'.

Then he thy flight among the skies ;
Take then, Oh! take the skylark's wing,
And leave dull earth, and heav'nward rise
O'er all its tearful clouds, and sing

On skylark's wing!
Another life-spring there adorns
Another youth-without the dread
Of cruel care, whose crown of thorns
Is here for manhood's aching head.
Oh, there are realms of welcome day,
A world where tears are wiped away!
Then be thy flight among the skies;
Take then, Oh! take the skylark's wing,
And leave dull earth, and heav'nward rise
O'er all its tearful clouds, and sing

On skylark's wing!

LAMB'S TRANSLATION OF CATULLUS.

“Well, let me tell you,” said Gold- truth in the Doctor's version, that smith, “ when my tailor brought my makes it very pleasant to the English bloom-coloured coat he said, Sir, I reader; and to the scholar, the notes have a favour to beg of you. When are pregnant with great classical any body asks you who made your knowledge, and the expression of a clothes, be pleased to mention John plain and vigorous judgment. The Filby, at the Harrow, in Water Doctor does not catch many of those Lane.” “Why, Sir,” said Johnson, sweet, honied expressions, which are “that was because he knew the strange the charm of the love poems of Cacolour would attract crowds to gaze tullus ;--nor has he the general freeat it; and thus they might hear of dom, the soft grace, the curious felihim, and see how well he could make city of his original ; but he translates a coat even of so absurd a colour.”

as nearly to the life as is, perhaps, Mr. Lamb's Translation of Catul- possible, and often points out in the lus appears much to resemble the notes a beauty of thought or lanblossom coloured coat of Poor Gold- guage, which he cannot exactly hit smith. It comes forth with Mr. Dan in his translation. vison's name on the title page, and It seems to us a very lamentable the ingenious printer seems only de- thing that a dead poet cannot, like a sirous of showing how goodly a book live bishop, have some voice in his he can make out of the most inap- own Translation :-we are quite sure, propriate materials. The paper of that if such a power could have been the pretty book before us is as yellow attained, Mr. Lamb would not have and sleek as heart could wish ; the been permitted to traduce into Engtype and ink are an ode of them- lish some of the sweetest and most selves; the title page buds with natural poems in the Roman lanpromises; yet with all these, never, guage. He would have been enjoinin all our critical experience, has it ed to silence by the poet himselffallen to us to meet with so weak and and would certainly never have heard valueless a publication,-so miserable those flattering words, which, by a marriage of paper and ink. dint of ingenious prompting, he gets

Catullus has been nibbled at by the shade of Catullus to utter. Mr. many poets, but we know of no re- Lamb, indeed, appears to be a straightgular translation, except one publish- forward, pains-taking, sensible gened by Johnson, in 1795, and said to tleman, with a very fair stock of be the work of a Dr. Nott. There is prose ideas upon poetry; and it is considerable force, and unaffected not at all improbable, that he relishes

The poems of l'aius Valerius Catullus translated, with a Preface and Notes, by the Hon. George Lamb, 2 Vols. 12mo.-Murray, 1821.

the original version of Catullus, but Catullus in severe verses: “a clean he catches none of its spirit and na well pointed satire was his forte," ture,-none of its terseness and en says the doctor; “ but we fear that chanting beauty of expression. Take, he more often used the bludgeon than for instance, that exquisite passage in the sword.” In the poetry of manly the Address to the Peninsula of friendship, and social kindliness, CaSirmio.

tullus was eminently happy; and Cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino

here, as Mr. Lamb speaks to the Labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum,

purpose, we will select what we Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto.

think the only good passage in the

preface, Mr. Lamb thus hammers out the lines :

There remain some poems to be spoken

of, not usually erected into a distinct class, Then when the mind its load lays down; but which may well justify such an arWhen we regain, all hazards past, rangement, namely, the poetry of friend.

And with long ceaseless travel tired, ship and affection. This is a strain in Our household god again our own; which only a genius originally pure, howAnd press in tranquil sleep at last, ever polluted by the immorality of its era,

The well known bed, so oft desired ; could descant with appropriate sentiment ; The fatigue of travel seems here to of love, while it refrains from its unreason

which speaks with all the kindly warmth bave passed into the very verse; for ing rage ; that adopts all its delicacy, withnever did poetry so tediously and

out any tinge of its grossness. In this tamely address itself “ unto our gen- style Catullus has written more in proportle senses."

tion, and more beautifully, than any auNow, really we do think that a thor. The lines to Hortalus, the Epistle translation of Catullus should be to Manlius, to Calvus on the death of something beyond a spiritless para- Quintilia, and the Invocation at his brophrase, or a schoolboy version. The ther's grave, show how warmly his heart words should burn into English,- beat with this refined impulse. These are should flash into a new tongue, with only the more touching compositions of new light,--should be all full of life, this kind; on the other hand, in such -of graceful joy, and happy tender- poems as Acme and Septimius, and the

Epithalamium on the marriage of Manlius ness ! Mr. Lamb is a kind of resur

and Julia, we behold with what pleasure rection man about Parnassus; he he witnessed, and with what zeal he celegoes about in the dark, digging up a brated the happiness of his friends. Sedead language, and exposing the re veral are of a light and frolicsome characmains to sale ; but he does not, like ter, such as those to Fabullus, to Flavius, the celebrated sexton, that “ fortu- and to Camerius : still all of this class, tunate youth" of churchyards, find a however uninteresting the subject, breathe gem on the finger; hereminds us rather an engaging kindness of heart; and, howof Cobbett's bringing into England ever trivial the occasion, it is still ornaa negro's bones for those of his hero. mented by the poet's natural felicity of ex. If he were in the east, the inhabit: pression ; which is, alas ! of all merits the ants would look upon him as a vam

one most likely to evaporate in translation. pire, from his fatal propensity to dedication to Cornelius Nepos, and that of

The heart-soothing address to Sirmio, the suck the life out of the fair, the ten- the Pinnace, and the lines to Himself on der, the beautiful! the muse feels the approach of Spring, speak those more the sickness of his eye, and pines placid feelings of content that, perhaps, give away under his sombre fascination. the most unalloyed happiness, and evince a

Catullus is of all poets perhaps the social and amiable disposition that harmohappiest, in expressing home feelings nizes well with warmer affections. naturally, and tender fcelings ten The preface of Mr. Lamb's work derly. A word with him, is conti- is not ill-written, but it is liberally nually like a sweet note in music, taken from the Introduction to Dr. and thrills on the heart strings. His Nott's book, and not as liberally acconciseness is matchless,--and his re- knowledged. The life of the poet is petitions of melodious words are ever inwoven into this preliminary essay, the most pleasant and felicitous. Dr. and also relishes strongly of the DocNott, whom Mr. Lamb just quietly tor. Mr. Lamb quotes some obseralludes to as “ the prior English vations of Walsh, at the beginning translator,” speaks of the success of of his preface, which appear to us

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