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Fled are the grimly shadows of Romance,
And pleas'd we see in beauteous troop advance
New arts, new manners, from the gothic gloom

Escap'd, and scattering flow'rs that sweetlier bloom !
• REFINEMENT wakes-before her beaming eye
Dispers’d, the fumes of feudal darkness Hy.
Like orient morning on the Mountain's head,
A softer light on life’s wide scene is shed :
Lapping in bliss the sense of human cares,
Melody pours forth her thousand airs ;
And, like the shades that on the still lake lye,
Of rocks, or fringing woods, or tinted sky,
PAINTING her hues on the clear tablet lays,
And her own beauteous world with tender touch displays !
Then Science lifts her form, august and fair,
And shakes the night-dews from her glitt'ring hair :
Meantime rich Culture cloaths the living waste,
And purer patterns of ATHENIAN Taste
Invite the eye, and wake the kindling sense ;
And milder Manners, as they play, dispense,

Like tepid airs of Spring, their genial influence.
• Such is thy boast, REFINEMENT; but deep dies

Oft mar the splendor of thy noon-tide skies:
Then Fancy, sick of follies that deform
The face of day, and in the sunshine swarm ;
Sick of the fluttering fopp’ries that engage
The vain pursuits of a degenerate age ;
Sick of smooth Sophistry's insidious cant,
Or cold Impiety's defying rant ;
Sick of the muling sentiment that sighs
O'er its dead bird, while Want unpitied cries;
Sick of the pictures that pale Lust inflame,
And flush the cheek of Love with deep deep shame ;
Would fain the shade of elder days recall,
The gothic battlements, the banner'd hall,
Or list of Elfin harps the fabling rhyme,
Or wrapt in melancholy trance sublime,
Pause o'er the working of some wond'rous tale,
Or bid the Spectres of the Castle hail !'-

Ban Art. 21.

Coombe Ellen : a Poem, written in Radnorshire. By the Rev. W. L. Bowles, A. M. 4to. 25. Dilly. 1798. Having spoken so fully of the merits of St. Michael's Mount, in the preceding article, we shall have less occasion to enlarge on the work before us. Yet it may be necessary to say something of the comparative excellencies and defects of the two poems. There is much fine description in both, but the former is more bold and animated, the latter more tender and pathetic. The versification of both is liable to the same exceptions : but in Coombe Ellen the faults are more glaring, owing perhaps to the loose and unrestrained measure of our English blank verse. "Witching and swink'd are terms neither elegant nor harmonious; and booted and strapt is an expression

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which borders very nearly on vulgarism. Unwilling, however, to dwell on little blemishes, we rather select those parts of the poem which, by awakening tender affection, may meliorate the heart.-The following extract may not be without a tendency of this sort :

• Amidst the craggs, and scarce discern'd so high,

Hangs here and there a sheep, by its faint bleat
Discover'd, whilst the astonish'd eye looks up,
And marks it on the precipice's brink
Pick its scant food secure : And fares it not
E'en so with you, poor orphans, ye who climb
The rugged path of life without a friend;
And over broken craggs bear hardly on
With pale imploring looks, that seem to say,

My mother!" she is buried, and at rest,
Laid in her grave-clothes; and the heart is still,
The only heart that throughout all the world
Beat anxiously for you! Oh, yet bear on;
He who sustains the bleating lamb, shall feed
And comfort you: meantime the Heaven's pure beam;
That breaks above the sable mountain's brow,
Lighting, one after one, the sunless craggs,
Awakes the blissful confidence, that here,
Or in a world where sorrow never comes,

All shall be well.'
Though the author's sentiments on seeing a solitary cottage on
the top of a hill are such as many persons have felt, few perhaps
could have expressed them so happily as he has done :

• But lo! upon the hilly croft, and scarce
Distinguish'd from the craggs, the peasant hut
Forth peeping ; nor unwelcome is the sight ;
It seems to say, Though solitude be sweet,
And sweet are all the images that float
Like summer clouds before the eye, and charm
The pensive wanderer's way, 'tis sweeter yet.
To think that in this world a brother lives.
And lovelier smiles the scene, that mid the wilds
Of rocks and mountains, the bemused thought
Remembers of humanity, and calls

The wildly-roving fancy BACK TO LIFB.'
Two Latin inscriptions, which close this pamphlet, will gratify the
lovers of classical elegance.

Ban? Art. 22. The New Margate Guide ; or Memoirs of Five Families out of Six ; who,

“ In Town discontent with a good Situation,

Make Margate the place of their Summer Migration." With Notes, and occasional Anecdotes.

25. 6d. gewed. London, Dutton ; Margate, Silver; &c.

If the humorous Anstey had never written his celebrated Bath Guide, this slight resemblance of it could never have existed, -(a truisin which we believe no reader will dispute ;) and the same re



I 2mo.

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mark may safely be extended to the many imitations of that celebrated performance. ---None of these had that advantage of originality which their model possessed in so eminent a degree. His design has, indeed, been borrowed: but of his manner we have yet seen only a faint resemblance, in the best of his copyists.

Like Mr. Anstey's performance, this is rather a satire on the Company than on the Place ;—and had not the Bath-guide preceded it, we might have set down the present writer as “a Comical Fellow," with whom, or at whom, we have enjoyed some laughter over his merrybegotten pages. We opened his book with no ill-timed inclination for gravity: but the numerous inaccuracies and blemishes in this little volume soon interrupted the flow of our good-humour.

Among other slips of a too hasty pen, observable in this publication, we could not but notice the singularity of sundry bastard rhimes, which seem to discover the author's affinity to a certain family, several branches of which we have at various times encountered ; a family noted for having no ideas,but abundance of “idears ;” and who are remarkable for persecuting every body whose name unfortunately ends with the letter a, such as Anna, Celia, Sophia, &c. which they fail not to burthen with a superfluous r; thus transforming them into Annar, Celiar, and Sophiar; nor will they even allow poor Hannah the laundry-maid to know her own name when she meets with it, despoiled of its final b, loaded with an useless r, and transfigured to “ Hanner;" yet, to do the family justice, they seem to have no idear” of their own improper behaviour in such proceedings.-Now for the curious rhimes, which have given birth to this our important stricture : P. 60. Then my Lady has all her acquaintance from Esher,

• Here's old. Doctor Rhubarb and Lady Magnesia :'
The word intended as a rhime to Esher must be pronounced Magne-

and this poet, no doubt, always pronounces it so.
P. 70. • Down stairs, cap in hand, did my worthy mama go,

Prepar'd for the first that should turn out its cargo.'
Here, for mama we must be careful to read “ mammar."
P. 120. • But let me assure you, tis much the best manner,

• For you to return with your Sister and Anna.'
Have the goodness, kind reader, to clap an r to the tail of Miss Anna,
and then she will answer very properly to Manner :-though you must
take the farther trouble of exchanging her second a for an e-Anner.

Other examples of incorrectness might have been brought forwards, but these



Go,” Man of Wit, “ and sin no more.
Art. 23. Pizarro ; a Tragedy, in Five Acts; as performed at the

Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane : taken from the German Drama of
Kotzebue ; and adapted to the English Stage by Richard Brin-
sley Sheridan. 8vo. 29. 6d. Fine Paper, 5s. Ridgway. 1799.

We rise from the perusal of this piece, in the closet, with very different feelings from those which have been excited by its represent. ation. Mr. Sheridan has, indeed, elevated the sentiments and melio. rated the general character of the original play, but we have still to


siar ;

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regret the want of his improving touch, in too many passages ; and the dialogue still preserves too much of the Teutonic stiffness. It is agreeable to trace, however, even in this state, symptoms of an approaching union between sense and splendour on the theatre. In the last age, good writers were apt to disregard the allurements of spectacle, and they too easily resigned it to the dunces :

“ 'Twas theirs to shake the soul With thunder rumbling from the mustard bowl ; With horns and trumpets now to madness swell,

Now sink in sorrows with a tolling bell." [Dunciad.] It has long been our opinion, that some of our finest dramatic pieces would admit the display of stage-magnificence, and deception, in a degree superior to any of the present vehicles of shew, What splendid machinery might be introduced into Shakspeare's Tempest ! Some of his historical plays would even require the use of battering cannon ; and how soothing would it prove to the feelings of a manager, to repair the meanness of the scanty warlike shews of the antient theatre, of which Shakspeare complained so feelingly?

“ And so our scene must to the battle fly;

Where, O for pity, we shall much disgrace,
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
(Right ill-dispos’d in brawl ridiculous)

The name of Agincourt.” * If the public taste be so sickened and depraved, that it rejects the once-prized delicacies of our best authors, it would be a deed worthy of its guardians to reconcile it to its natural food by intermingling with it somewhat of the favourite seasoning :

Veluti pueris absinthia tetra medentes, Cum dare conantur, prius oras pocula circum

Contingunt mellis dulci, flavoque liquore f: :" In the mean time, we must examine, “ with what appetite we may,” the olio here provided for us.

The plots of German plays are so characteristically extravagant, that it is hardly necessary to apply the remark to the present pere formance. To make a breach in the wall of the Temple of the Sud, for the admission of a young lover, Kotzebue einployed the familiar agency of an earthquake, in the first part of the play t; in this, the General of the Peruvian Army quits his post, and runs to and from the enemy's camp

like common courier, in the most critical situation of affairs, to gratify the love-sick wishes of his quondam mistress. We have also sentimental centinels, who disobey the commands of their officers at the glance of a fair lady, or on an appeal to their finer feelings made by an enemy. The catastrophe of the piece is greatly injured by the addition now made to it. Kotzebue judiciously closed his play with the death of Rolla, and with a reflection on the strength of his passion by Cora; in the present instance, a fresh alarm is given, (before the


* Chorus to the 3d Act of Henry V. + Lucretius,

| The Virgin of the Sun: of which some translations are before us, and will soon be noticed.



friends of Rolla have time to wipe their eyes, or to utter a single expression of grief,) that the Spanish army is “just coming in at the door ;" * and the action is prolonged to the death of Pizarro. Thus our just admiration of Rolla’s generous sacrifice is distracted by other objects, and the concluding dumb-shew loses a considerable part of its effect.

In the characters we perceive little alteration, excepting that of Elvire; which, originally drawn with a harsh outline, has been cor. rected and softened by Mr. Sheridan's pencil. The style is evidently improved, and is raised to a kind of measured prose; which yet in many passages satisfies the ear more than the understanding.

After having examined this play as a literary work, we must now attend to the more powerful attraction of its repeated allusions to the circumstances of the times, which are introduced with great dexterity, and which have contributed much to its success with the public. The following patriotic sentiments are entirely due to the pen of Mr. Sheridan:

Ata. In the welfare of his children lives the happiness of their King. Friends, what is the temper of our soldiers ?

Rol. Such as becomes the cause which they support ; their cry is, Victory or death! our King ! our Country! and our God!

Ata. Thou, Rolla, in the hour of peril, hast been wont to animate the spirit of their leaders, ere we proceed to consecrate the banners which thy valour knows so well to guard.

! Rol. Yet never was the hour of peril near, when to inspire them words were so little needed. My brave associates-partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame!-can Rolla's words add vigour to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts ? — No-YOU have judged as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you-Your generous spirit has coma pared, as mine has, the motives, which, in a war like this, can animate their minds, and OURS.—THLY, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule-we, for our country, our altars, and our homes.—They follow an Adventurer whom they fearand obey a power which they hate-We serve a Monarch whom we, love-a God whom we adore. Whene'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress !-Where'er they pause in amity, afliction mourns their friendship!—They boast, they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error! Yes-They will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are them. selves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection—Yes, such protection as vulțures give to lainbs-covering and devouring them !—They call on us to barter all of good we have in. herited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better which they promise.–Be our plain answer this: The throne we ho. noúr is the PEOPLE'S choice—the laws we reverence are our brave Fathers' legacy-the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss beyond the grave,

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