rality which it inculcates. To this her powers are

confined.

GRECIAN DAUGHTER.

The only unequal attempt which Miss O'Neill has made is in her next character, the Grecian Daughter, in Murphy's tragedy of that name. It is founded on a celebrated Grecian story of the tyrant Dionysius of Syracuse, and though it is a tragedy not without many defects, the character of the heroine interests so strongly from the excess of filial affection, as to render it highly popular.

The excess of filial affection, however, is here of the most elevated nature, and requires a command of the greatest physical powers, such as the constitution and disposition of Miss O'Neill is not adequately fitted to accomplish: yet even here we may have much to praise. Her attempt was a daring happy beyond expectation; and if she failed in reaching the summit of the sublime, it was not from want of a just conception of the character,

but from what nature has denied. Her's is the empire of the soft emotions, and the character of Euphrasia is one of masculine energies, of pre-eminent courage and virtues; one that, in fact, towers

above the delicacy, we shall not say weaknesses, of her sex. She is cast in a Spartan mould, and pos

sesses all that enthusiasm of filial affection which so much distinguished those ancient days, when the relation betwixt the parent and child was preferred to every other duty, and was the greatest recommendation in an heroic character. Thus Euphrasia exclaims

"Could I desert my father? Could I leave
The venerable man, who gave me being,

A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay

To watch his fate, to visit his affliction,

To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear

Of filial virtue bid ev'n bondage smile?"

As civilization advances, and the connexions multiply, this first of the chain of intimate relatives is too apt to be weakened, and few of the heroic achievements of modern times are built on such a foundation.

This tragedy, possessing in it the height of the sublime, and mixing in its leading parts much of the terrific and wonderful, rather tends, in many parts, to horrify than please. Even the first appearance of Euphrasia carries with her rage and tempest, as she cries out

"War on, ye heroes,

Ye great asserters of a monarch's cause!
Let the wild tempest rage:"

and also, further on, where she exclaims

"Come, vengeance, come, shake off this feeble sex,
Sinew my arm, and guide it to his heart.
And thou, O filial piety, that rul'st

My woman's breast, turn to vindictive rage;
Assume the port of justice; show mankind
Tyrannic guilt had never dar'd, in Syracuse,
Beyond the reach of virtue."

Yet even in this play Miss O'Neill exhibited great skill in many of the leading scenes: her solicitation to Philotas in particular was impressively striking her burst of indignation in the following

passage was great, and suited to the bold dig

nified virtue of the character.

The voice of manhood? Honest, if you dare!
'Tis the slave's virtue! "Tis the utmost limit

Of a base coward's honour.-Not a wretch,

There's not a villain, not a tool of pow'r,

But, silence, interest, extinguish fear,

And he will prove benevolent to man.

The gen'rous heart does more: will dare to all

That honour prompts.- How dost thou dare to mur

der?

Respect the gods, and know no other fear."

Her after gratitude, on his consenting to give her access to her father, expressed in a choked hysterical manner, was no less contrasted by her previous portrait of the different and elevated pas

sion.

The scene with the tyrant was also highly interesting and well performed. Indignation, contempt, and abhorrence, were pourtrayed in their strongest colours, and with a felicity which brought forth successive bursts of applause.

But the reception given to her husband before the tomb may be considered as the most eminent part of the whole, by giving scope to all those fine emotions of tenderness which so innately characterize Miss O'Neill, and where she shewed admirable judgment in marking the difference between her strong filial, and warm conjugal feelings.

The conclusion, when she stabs the tyrant, was grand and appalling: the expression-the attitude and voice, were all magnanimous and terrific, as she pronounced

"A daughter's arm, fell monster, strikes the blow:"

and afterwards the smile of contempt and heroism, as she repeats--

"Yes, tyrant, yes; in a dear father's cause, A woman's vengeance tow'rs above her sex,"

gives a most glorious finish to the catastrophe. If, therefore, in the Grecian Daughter Miss O'Neill is not so strongly and commandingly impressive as Mrs. Siddons, it is not from defect of taste, judgment, or a proper conception of the character, but