« ПредишнаНапред »
-Say, when to kindle soft delight,
That hand has chanc'd with mine to meet,
A figh so short, and yet so sweet?
Adieu, enchanting girl, adieu !
TO THE KNAT.
Poetic visions charm my closing eye;
Shift to wild notes of sweetest minstrelsy;
Thy feathery antlers quivering with delight,
And all is folitude, and all is night!
Unsheaths its rerrors in the sultry air!
Lifts the broad shield, and points the sparkling spear.
Thy dragon-scales still wet with human gore:
-I wake in horror, and “ dare sleep no more !" These pieces which are entitled to our praise as compofitions of elegance and feeling, are however in no respect superior to those which may now be met with among the poetry of our periodical works. Elegance is, indeed, almost the only attribute of the modern muse.
Naucratia; or Naval Dominion : a Poem. By Henry
James Pye, Esq. Nicol. THE poet Laureat is particularly happy in the choice
of his subject. At all times our naval dominion has been the pride and boast of our countrymen. Now, our eyes are more especially directed to her efforts. Threatened with an invasion, our navy constitutes our
chief bulwark. To its valour we look up with no ordinary expectation; nor shall we look in vain.
The poem is divided into three books. The bard takes an ample sweep into the history of Britain. He enumerates in animated and flowing verse, our various naval triumphs. We could select many beautiful parsages. But we must refrain from numerous quotations. Our limits will not permit it. We however will present the reader with two specimens, which will afford him an idea of the manner in which the whole
is executed. The first shall be a description of the British Sailor, and will not fail of commanding our approbation.
« 'Tis not the oak whose hardy branches wave
Now rushing on the foe with frown severe,
The second specimen shall contain the poet's spirited apostrophe to our naval heroes.
“ Imperial mistress of the briny plains, Without a rival, now Britannia reigns. Where'er in warlike pomp
her barks appear,
Ye laurel'd chiefs, who rais’d his billowy reign !
an answer, politely fignifying, “ That they did not think it would succeed in representation.”
“ With this answer the Translator refted fully satisfied,” until he saw the Stranger" announced for representation : but, when he saw it acted, with scarcely ang alteration from his own manuscrips, except in the names of the characters, and with the addition of a song, and fome dancing, entirely unconnected with the subject, he could not help feeling that he had been ungenerouly treated."
66 On comparing all circumstances,” he thinks be may “stand excused for supposing that a manager who writes hinsel,' may fometimes (as Sir FRETFUL PLAGIARY says) serve the thoughts of others as gypfies do ítolen children: disfigure them to make then pass for his own.”
This translation, we are informed, is “ printed from the copy which was sent to the managers," and “ most of the nonfente, which was hissed on the stage, is omitted." The Translator has also ventured to deviate from the original plot in one delicate particular. He has not made the wife actually commit that crime which is a stain to the female character, though she was on the brink of ruin, by eloping from her husband.-This liberty he trusts will be excused; partly because he feels that, according to the dictates of nature, reconciliation would in such circumstances be more easily obtained : but chiefly, because he considered it as more confiftent with the moral sentiment, and more congenial to the heart of an English audience, than the forgiveness of a wife who had been actually guilty.”
So much for the justice of managers and the encouragement of genius !--Eight or ten days was certainly a fufficient length of time, in which to mutilate, change the characters of, and introduce a song into a dramatic piece :-one stanza of which fong, however, if not a direct theft, is a palpable plagiariim from Mr. Tickell.
This play, neither in its acted nor printed state, is properly adapted to the English stage. It poffefses al! the weight without any of the intereft of tragedy. With the exception of its moral, all the objections adduced in our Dramatic Review attach with equal firength to the printed copy, and we again assert, it never cun become a standard favourite with the Public.
He's Much to Blame, a Comedy ; in Five Afts. pp. 96.
8vo, Robinsons. IN this degenerate age, the perufal of a legitimate co
medy is a trear which we do not experience every day.- Mr. Holcroft is the reputed author of this play · if he be really so, we think him much to blame in not avowing it, as it is unquestionably a much better piece than any which have received the sanction of his name.
He's Much to Blame is a comedy--it is not a five-act farce. We present our Readers with the following scenes :
“ Sir G. Nay then, I am on the wing! " Maria, (advancing) Whither?
« Sir G. Ah! Have I found you again ? So much the better ! I have been thinking of you this half hour.
“ Mar. Ay? That must have been a prodigious effort ! « Sir G. What?
“ Mar. To think of one person før so great a length of time.
6 Sir G. True. Were you my bitterest enemy, you could not have uttered a more galling truth. I am glad I have met with you, however,
“ Mar. So am I. 'Tis my errand here. “ Sir G. You now, I hope, will let me see your face?
“ Mar. I might, perhaps, were it but possible to see your heart.
“ Sir G. No, no: that cannot be. I have no heart. “ Mar. I am sorry for it!
« Sur G. Su am í. But come, I wish to be better acquainted with you.