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Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind. her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

His lordship, however, gallops away, and Angus, after storming a little, on the wrong side of the portcullis, adopts the comfortable philosophy of sparing him whom he cannot injure.

But previously to this business, the inauguration of De Wilton takes place: and here Mr. Scott has again

ter, he was left on the field for dead, haughty Scot refuses to shake hands but it happened most conveniently with him (having heard of his basethat there was a little life remaining, ness towards De Wilton) they quarWhen he came to himself, he found rel at the gate, and thanks to the himself within his "ancient beads- speed of Marmion's horse, or the man's shed:" he recovers; and jour- portcullis would have placed him in a neys with this Austin (for that is his like predicament with Tam o Shanname) through various countries, dis- ter's mare: guised as a palmer. Austin at length dies; but makes De Wilton promise, that should he ever have Marmion in his power to spare his life for his sake. De Wilton next travels to Scotland, and here, in the true spirit of a modern novel, he becomes the guide of his greatest foe. It was De Wilton in propria persona, who met Lord Marnion on the haunted ground, and unhorsed him; and forbore to sacrifice him to his wrongs, mindful of the promise Austin had exacted from him. But how he became informed of Marmion's intention of visiting the haunted spot at midnight, (for he communicated it to no one but FitzEustace, and him he awoke out of his sleep to tell him of his design, and to bid him accompany him) we know not: the reader, however, may suppose any way he likes. When the abbess gave him the proofs of his own innocence, thinking him no other than a holy palmer, he resolved to justify himself in the eyes of the world; he communicates his whole history to the Earl of Angus, who, convinced of his wrongs, intends to dub him a knight, afresh, and he is accordingly watching his armour till midnight, according to the laws of chivalry, and like Don Quixote of old, when Clara so opportunely meets with him. This is all very common and very uninteresting.

In the fifth stanza of this canto, Mr. Scott is driven again, by the necessity of rime, to pure nonsense:

"Oh! not corslet's ward

Not truth, as diamond pure and hard,
Could be thy manly bosom's guard," &c.

To the purity of truth we have nothing to object: but to its durity we


De Wilton resolves to join the English army, and reap new honours, and it is needless to add that he performs wonders in the field. All that is in course. Meanwhile Marmion takes his leave of Angus, and because the

fallen into the ludicrous. He seems
indeed to be unaccountably fond of
large limb'd heroes. Describing the
Earl of Angus, he says he looked like
a giant Douglas, rising on the last
day from the tomb,

"So pale his face, so huge his limb,
So old his arms, his look so grim !”

But this is dignified compared to the following. De Wilton having one through all the ceremony of the installation, the bishop addresses him:

"Wilton, grieve not for thy woes,
Disgrace and trouble,

For he, who honor best bestows,

May give thee doubl."

De Wilion sobbed, for sob he must"Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust,

That Douglas is my brother." How like the burthen of a halfpenny ballad is such ur meaning verbosity!

The rest of the narrative is easily anticipated. Marmion goes to battle, and is killed: De Wilton goes to battle, and does wonders. Marmion is brought out of the fight, wounded, and the following elegant and highly poetical colloquy takes place between two of his followers:

Young Blount his armour did unlace,
And, gazing on his ghastly face,

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Said, By St. George he's gone!! That spear wound has our master sped; And see, the deep cut on his head!

Good night to Marmion!!!" «Unnurtur'd Blount, thy brawling cease, He opens his eyes," said Eustace, "peace!"

Had Mr. Scott ambitiously labour- We have allotted an unusual space ed to produce a comic narrative, a to the consideration of this poem, besort of burlesque, he could scarcely cause we thought that a deliberate have succeeded better. But, believing him to have no such intention, what shall we say to his mind, that could pen such lines, or to his taste, that could suffer them to pass into the world?

and adequate review of its nature and merits might tend to establish the true basis of Mr. Scott's present popularity. We consider him as a pleasing and an amusing writer: but we will venture to prophecy, that MarWe have but little more to add. mion (notwithstanding the vain manThe reader can easily anticipate the ner in which Mr. Scott designates conclusion: De Wilton, of course, himself in one of his notes) will remarries Clara: but of the unfortunate pose in humble obscurity, long before Constance nothing more is said. The the present generation shall pass

poem closes with a few lines from the author to the reader, which are very vapidly written.




TAKE back the heart with falsehood

The vows that never truth impressed;
Here I renounce that fancied heaven,
Love once had raised within my breast.
The ardent hope, the trembling sigh,
The joy that thrill'd thro' every vein;
The kindling check, the sparkling eye,
That laugh'd in bliss, or mourn'd in pain.
The tender mind that breath'd in thought,
That painted language on the face;

The kind regard, the glance that caught
From inward warmth its loveliest grace;
Are lost, are gone; nor can return;
Your fickle heart 's no more the same;
The once-lov'd object now your spurn;
Revolving time has quench'd your flame.
But time nor place shall change the love
That in my bosom's core I bear;
Where'er I go, where'er I rove,
I'll watch the plant with fondest care.
And when that moment shall arrive,
Which bids my soul to heaven aspire,
The name of her for whom I live,
Shall with my closing breath expire.


AH! why all unkind did I leave

W. M.

Those beauties to languish and pine;
That heart in sad anguish to grieve,
Which affection still told me was mine?
Could I thus see thy pleasures expire,
Thy beauties, thy charms all decay?
Could I thus, to indulge fond desire,
From Cynthia e'er wander away?
Sad, pensive, a prey to despair,
Methinks I behold thee e'en now,
In tears seek relief from thy care,
And breathe forth in sighs all thy woe.

O! quick let the moment arrive,
When again I shall pant on thy breast;
When in thee all my joys shall revive,
In thy arms all my cares sink to rest
W. M.


AS now along this cool retreat 【 wind

My devious course, where erst have stray'd

Sweet Marianna's feet, where oft she

With me at eve, beneath these elms reclin'd,
Fond mem'ry kindles in my drooping mind

A new affection;-but, alas! the maid
Stern Death within the lonely tomb hath

And left me here in wretchedness behind!
Yes! she was wont beneath this very tree,

On me to gaze with an enamour'd eye;
On this green hillock would she often lie,
And fill my soul with melting ecstasy!
But, ah! those pleasures are for ever fled,
For Marianna moulders with the dead!
Grafton street, April 1808.



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Else am I conscious all your heart would What if I find the parent tree, melt,

And bless the Muse's wonderful control! Ay! you must drink at the Castaliau spring, Ere Fancy mounts upon her fiery wing! Grafton-street, April 1808.

J. G.

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Which brought thee forth, O flow'r for


Not one that's left can equal thee,

For some are wither'd, some unborn. Like thine, sad Rose! was Julia's doom, Who shone in beauty's charms most fair, And in the zenith of her bloom,

The arm of death was doom'd to bear.
Were I to rove the world around,

"I would never be my lot to find
One with so much virtue crown'd,
With so much beauty too combin'd.
No-I must seek the realms above,

And every human right forego;
For the bright image of that love,
I never can redeem below!
Tilshead, Wiltshire
Downs, May 1.


SONNET to SLEEP, in a restless Night. COME gentle pow'r, that soothes the soul

to rest,

And plunge me in thy temporary gloom, Where nought the placid spirit can molest, Save the bright visions wove in fancy's loom!

Oh, why delay, reluctant Sleep! to bring Thy soothing influence, and assuage my pain?

To give my soul the balin that gems thy wing,

And let thy vot'ry hopeless still complain?

Say, can thy gloom no peace to him restore,
Who groans beneath affliction's torturing

If not, thy presence I'll invoke no more,
To calm my breast in this tempestuous

But still, by anguish taught, my tears shall

'Till health return, or death shall end my woe!

Tilsherd, Wiltshire
Downs, May 3.



Man The Minor.


own powers: but in public characters, ONDAY, May 2. The Heir at nothing is more frequent, than to find Mr. Ban- a strong an.bition of universal talent; nister took his benefit this evening, and forgetful of their own peculiar excelas it seems to be an allowable thing, lence, they wish to intrude upon the that an actor may do what he likes at province of others. Such was presuch a time, so Mr. Bannister perform cisely the case this evening. ed the part of Dr. Pangloss. There is, Bannister is a comedian of very excertainly, no part of human wisdom tensive aud popular powers: 'but those so truly beneficial as self-knowledge: powers have a limit, a truth of which as a due and fair estimation of our we were never more sensible than on UNIVERSAL MAG. VOL. IX. SE


this occasion. He seems to have an the lees only remain, and it is a meunaccountable predilection for Mr. lancholy thought, that necessity should Fawcett's characters: we remember, compel him to proclaim the decay of some years ago, he played Caleb Quo- his own powers. Speaking dispastem, on his benefit night. But he is sionately, the Jew of Mogadore is an totally unfit for either: in fact, these extremely dull, and an extremely two characters were drawn for the ac- flippant production. Cherry could tor, and it may therefore easily be not have written worse, and Dibdin conceived why Mr. Fawcett should so might possibly write better. The lan peculiarly succeed in them. Mr. Ban- guage is weak and spiritless; the incinister has neither the volubility, the pe- dents are uninteresting; the charac dantry, nor the humour of the former. ters are common. It is a second atBut on this evening he was not alone tempt to place the Jews in an amiable inferior. We never saw a play more light: we applaud the motive, but indifferently represented, with the condemn the execution. We sincerely single exceptions of Mr. Johnstone, hope that Mr. Cumberland may not the original Kenrick, and of Mathews, be again compelled to endure the who performed Lord Duberly with that hisses of that public who have been, uncommon excellence, which he so heretofore, delighted, and are still deamply possesses. Mr. Russell, in Dick lighted, with the effusions of his pen. Dolas, reminded us mournfully of Joana of Montfaucon, the Sailor's poor Palmer: and, as usual, he in- Daughter, and the Jew of Mogadore, dulged the audience with a few speci- are convincing proofs that the period mens of novel orthoepy, as dissoloot of his mental power is past. for dissolute, &c. Mr. De Camp, The performers exerted themselves though a young man of very consider to the utmost. Braham sang two deable abilities and much promise, per- lightful airs; and Dowton performed formed Zekiel Homespun, without feel- the character of the Jew in a masterly ing, discrimination, or humour. Mrs. manner. He seemed to feel that he Jordan made her first appearance in was upholding the character of his Cicely Homespun, but we cannot say friend and patron. The words of the that she succeeded: it is not in the songs were much superior to the comdelineation of rustic and artless simplicity that she succeeds: but in exhibiting the union of villatic coarseness of manner with the arch shrewd ness of an untutored mind. She did not, consequently, please us in Cicely, who is intended to be an artless, innocent, and kind-hearted country girl.

mon strain of such compositions: but the language was so dull, and the incidents so scanty and inartificially worked up, that it was not permitted to be announced for a second represen tation; though, as usual, the managers did not hesitate to use the gross falsehoods in the next day's bills, of After the play succeeded Sylvester unbounded applause from all parts, &c. Daggerwood, and various songs: but Monday, May 9. The Wife of To we saw nothing that amused us so Husbands-The Hunter of the Alps. much as Mr. Braham coming for- This interesting drama was performed ward to sing, with an opera-hat un- this evening, for the benefit of Mr. der his arm, and half boots and Braham. Mr. Siddons made his first pantaloons on: it was such an agree appearance in Count Belfior, but play able mixture of right and ed it much inferior to H. Johnstone, wrong, as could not fail to "elevate and who, we remember, was the original surprise." representative. The extreme debility Tuesday, May 3. The Jew of Moga- fruitless labour to listen to him, unless of this gentleman's voice renders it a dore, (first time)-Fortune's Frolic.we happen to be in the stage-box. Mr. This opera is from the of Cumberpen land; from the pen of him whom Braham performed Theodore, and inGoldsmith dignified with the appella

tion of

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troduced some new songs into the cha racter. Palmer played Fitz, but in so despicable a manner, that he excited downright laughter in the most serious parts. Caulfield, who was the original Fitz, gave a great degree of

interest to the part: his tall, gaunt figure, combined with the hollow, sepulchral tone of his voice, were well cal. culated for such a character: but for Mr. Palmer, we should have been less displeased to see it performed by Mr. Maddocks.

Why has Mrs. Powell been kept so in the back ground this season? We hope for one reason only: the want of a tragic actor to support her; for Mr. Elliston seems, at length, to be gradually coming to a sense of his real powers. She played with great feel ing and animation this evening: and we must do Mr. Braham the justice to say, that he surprised us by a very marked improvement in his elocu


After the play, was given an Iarmonic Meeting, in which Messrs. Braham, Smith, Gibbon, and Johnstone, sang: the latter a song about the virtues of the Prince! To this succeeded the Hunter of the Alps, and the audience could not complain of a deficiency of


Wednesday, May 11. Honey Moon -Caractacus. It was Mr. D'Egville's benefit this evening; and we notice it, merely to say that Madame Catalani made her appearance on the boards of this theatre. It will be needless to add, that such an event attracted a vast concourse of persons, and the lobbies presented such a scene as we ne ver before witnessed, not even on the first appearance of Master Betty. A great number of persons left the house, after having paid for their admission; and a still greater number sat down quietly upon the stairs in patient expectation of seeing something in the course of the evening. When Madame Catalani appeared she was received with rapturous applause, and her wonderful powers excited the usual admiration. She sang, at the end of the second act of the play, a new grand scena, a la pompa, in recititative and aria, and at the end of the fourth act, Hope told a flattering Tale, with variations. In the latter she was astonishingly great.

After the play there was La Fete Chinoise, in which most of the dancers from the Opera House appeared.


Friday, April 29. Two Gentlemen of Verona-Who Wins? We are not of the number of those who consider this play as unworthy of revival: on the contrary, we think it an interest-, ing drama, and highly deserving of a regular station on the boards of our theatres. Whether it be Shakspeare's or not, is a question distinct from its interest in representation; and, for our own parts, we think the labour which Mr. Kemble has bestowed upon it to render it fit for a modern audience highly judicious, and most creditable to his taste and judgment. The character of Valentine, however, affords him but few opportunities for the display of his powers: yet, there are occasionally times where he rises to his accustomed elevation: and at all times, his dignity of manner and elegance of deportment confer such an indefinable grace upon the character as makes us forget its unimportance. Miss Smith played Julia, but indifferently. Munden and his dog were both so excellent, that we scarcely knew which to prefer.

Friday, May 6. The Tempest-The Review; or, The Wags of Windsor. We consider this as an infinitely less interesting play, in representation, than the Two Gentlemen of Verona; but, in the closet, as Shakspeare wrote it, should they be considered as productions of the same pen?

Nel cerchio accolto, Mormoro potentissime parole. TASSO. Dryden and others, with their patchwork, have infringed on the majesty of the bard of Avon, and produced a motley whole, which no real lover of Shakspeare can contemplate with acquiescence or approbation. Yet in this manner it is acted; though our judgments revolt against the infantile improbabilities of Hippolyto and Dorinda, and the resuscitation of the former. Apart, however, from the consideration of this mutation, the piece is got up in a manner that leaves no, thing to wish. Mr. Kemble, in Prospero, gives dignity and interest to a part which the bad taste of Garrick transformed to an opera character, and consigned to a singer. His aitches are still a watchword for commotion; but we observed, that on this night, the

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