mained stationary for such a long interval. "Their views, however, were meritorious; the existing practice is derived from them. They exploded the barbarious, empty, insignificant, sounds, maindrette, benverse, fendante, estocade, imbroncade, &c. And they introduced the significant ordinal terms, viz. prime, seconde, tierce, quarte, quinte, and the octave, which are current at this moment. They have left no names of thrusts between the quinte and the octave. "Beneath parental roof Maria grows→→→ Pure is her mind, her looks each charm disclose; Each blushing grace around her footsteps strays, And beauty's form her lovely brow displays; While truth, with winning modesty combin'd, Grace ev'ry action, as they grace her mind: Her soul, fair beaming in her beauteous face, The eye with fond complacence loves to trace: tones, Her lips ne'er utter what her heart disowns; Her mild expressions, as by prudence taught, To give authority to the system, it was asserted, that it was the result of Her language ne'er assumes deceit's soft experiments from nature; that different peasants having been ordered to make their efforts in succession, concurred in making their first thrust in prime, directing the point high, more to the left than to the right of the antagonist, with the hand in pronation; that is, with the knuckles and palm downwards, and the convexity of the hand upwards. From this weak position, most of the cuts and guards now used by the cavalry are derived." (To be continued.) Flow forth ingenuous, as they lie in thought: Unnumber'd charms her artless smiles diffuse, Her modest mien dark envy's ire subdues; And vain the dart that slander's hand would aim, While sweet-ey'd innocence protects her fame." The sad story of the poem is deli- And, foe to honour, as to virtue's sway, neated in six cantos. The scene of With fiend-like joy he marks her for his the first is laid in the country, where prey. the lost maid first becomes acquainted In truth's fair robe, torn from her shrine, with Lorenzo, her deceiver. She is described in the following lines at once. He correct and easy. array'd, looks all love to win the timorous maid; Assuasive smiles his guileful lips dispart, heart. As cov Mimosa, with fine sense endow'd, So shrinks Maria from his ardent gaze, Shy modesty forbids her longer stay, 51 "Where is my child ? the aged mother cries, Alas, my plies." child!" 'tis all the sire re The sympathy of the shepherd for "Though art has ne'er his plain address the affliction of his hoary headed friends is sweetly marked. refin'd, tressed, And while he feels, remembers he was blest." But something gently whispers-disobey. He sorrows felt, hence feels for the dis Her sweet confusion, and her tinid glance, Yet softest sympathy inspires his mind; Exalt her beauty, and his flame enhance." The poet has very properly raised a struggle in the breast of the maid, before she consents to forsake her parents for her too successful lover. O, shall I leave," she cries, "those Profuse of every joy that virtue yields: trees, Ascends full slow, borne by the whisper ing breeze, The woodbine-mantled window full is seen, cries, "O, no, return!" Affection prompt replies. Half wrested from her purpose, mute she stands, While all the daughter in her heart expands." The digressive comparison which follows this passage, in the poem, is marked by peculiar beauty and simplicity: perhaps it is not going much too far to say, that some of the Author's comparisons are spicy of the Homeric. The third canto, or delineation, introduces Maria's parents in company with a shepherd and peasants. Their dwelling, with the surrounding objects are artfully and pleasingly described; but Maria's presence was wanting to give effect to the landscape in the hearts and imaginations of the old and affec tionate pair. In vain to them the smiling evening glows, The gloom of sorrow lours upon their brows; In vain does nature her mild charms dis play- All that can man breast, the author says, and says On this tender affection of the hutruly, "The prosperous man, who ne'er soft feelings prov'd, Hears Sorrow's cry, and onward walks unmov'd; But when her sons her gentlest wailings hear, They fly to succour, or to give a tear." never to return to the seat of health For ever fled, and tears remain alone; Once dear to Virtue, now allied to shame ; The hapless story, how Maria fell." Lorenzo, not satisfied with the banhe had unworthily possessed himself, quet of charm and attraction of which ment; he is, as he deserves, punished roves at large in search of new enjoyplores the aid and the forgiveness of for his libertinism; he falls sick, imthe gentle, the pitying Maria. She H 2 sees his heart bursting with repentance, and does all in her power to sooth as well as to restore him. "And do you thus," he cries, " attendant wait? Pity my errors, and deplore my fate." All was in vain; the venom of false pleasure ad sunk too deep into his whole frame; it rankled about the heart, the fountain of life: he sees his fate approaching; he reflects on the doom of vice, and thinks on the sacrifice of his happiest days. He calls on Maria : "But, lo! his eyes a dark'ning shade as Thus has the author constructed a very pretty poem, with a laudable moral interwoven in it. If some readers should think the fair one yielded too soon and too easily to deserve our commiseration, let them bear in mind the unsuspecting nature of a rural maid without education, to whom the promise of marriage is made with as much apparent sincerity as earnestness. There is certainly nothing to blame in the writer. He might say with an unknown author on the same subject: "To warn the fair against insidious snares, To place in strongest light before their eyes. The other short poems in this little collection, Ruins,' Independence,' "The Revery' (which we would rather see written Reverie for obvious reasons) Sensibility,' &c. &c. are not without their merits; but they are of inferior interest and composition, to the Sorrows of Seduction.' THE DRAMA. AYMARKET THEATRE. him oftner in the line of young men. sented at this theatre, a new comedy duced at this theatre, the houses under the title of the "Partners," have in general, been uncommonly (mentioned in our last number) from good. Mr. Winston has appeared in the pen of Mr. Prince Hoare. This a fresh character-that of Darby, in play had nothing to redeem it from its the Poor Soldier, and we do not hesi merited condemnation, but that it was tate to say, that if he is allowed fair the production of a gentleman, who play, he will prove a valuable acquisi has often before entered the list, and tion to the stage. invariably gained the palm.-As the play was condemned, we wish not to rake up its ashes. But in justice to the public, it is necessary to add, that the performance merited its fate. The public taste for the Italian Comic Opera, seems once more revived. Tuesday, July 2, was the se cond night of the new subscription, and the theatre was well attended. The Dramatist, has been lately re- For many years, no Opera has affordpresented at this theatre; the part of ed so much attraction as La Cosa Vapid, by Elliston, whose perform- Rara. The music is the chef d'ouvre ance of the character was masterly of Martini, and afforded an opportu and original. In his usage of pots, nity for the full display of the various pans, and earthenware, Mr. E. may exertions of Mrs. Billington and Brabe thought somewhat to intrench upon ham; Morelli and Viganoni, Madame Lewis's line, who, in kicking up a row Storace, Kelly, all of which perupon the stage, stands without a com- formers appeared in the same piece, petitor;-yet Elliston's performance and on the same evening. The whole would, perhaps, have been equally piece was very highly applauded. unrivalled, had it been the first. The happiest efforts of the evening, Matthew's Ennui is, likewise, highly however, was the duet between Bra creditable. The littleness and insig- ham, and Mrs. Billington; her solo, nificance of the fop were well repre- admirably accompanied by her bro sented and we should like to see ther, and the song, by Kelly, -- Thursday, July 19, a new comedy, tion was also manifested, but it soon in three acts, entitled, "The Village," subsided, and the comedy was receivwas represented for the first time at the ed towards the conclusion, with a conHaymarket Theatre. The outline ap- siderable share of approbation. On pears to have been taken from a French the second representation, the piece piece, brought out at one of the Paris was condemned. Mr. Cherry, of theatres, 2 or 3 years ago, by Picard. D.ury-lane theatre, is affirmed to be -The foundation on which the plot the author. has been constructed, seems scarcely German theatre.-This seems to be sufficient for a three-act piece. Two the age of premature dramatic talent young men, in consequence of the at least, we may consider the efbreaking down of their carriage, are forts of the juvenile performers, at the obliged to sojourn for a few hours, in theatre, late Dibdins, in Leicestera country village, in the circum- square, as truly surprising. This scribed society of which they are in- youthful company, consists of 5 chilfluenced by the same interested mo- dren, for they can scarcely be consitives, vanities, and follies that are ge- dered, in any other light, all, with the nerally imputed to the inhabitants of exception of master Gleisner, of Mr. a metropolis. To bring those passions Schirmer's family, and natives of Saxand foibles into action, has been the ony, where the German language is endeavour of the author of "The Vil- spoken in its purity and perfection. lage." Some of the characters have Master Schirmer, the eldest son, has considerable pretensions to originality; but just attained his 14th year. He and if one or two obnoxious passages is the hero of every piece, and is cerand situations, put together loosely, tainly a prepossessing youth, being and carelessly, were expunged, and gifted with all those advantages of judicious compression applied, it person and deportment, which are might be rendered a light and plea- calculated to confer grace, elegance, sant entertainment, and would stand and dignity on the mimic scene. His a fairer chance of success. Elliston, brother Frederick, displays an unMatthews, and Dowton, played the common fund of comic humour. The most prominent characters. Were it two Miss Schirmers, give large pronot for the presence of mind, and the mise of future excellence; the elder fluent, well adapted address to the au- has all the ease,and self-possession of a dience, delivered by Mr. Elliston, the finished actress, and Miss Louisa play was in danger of being condemn Schirmers, a girl only 9 or 10 years ed, in the commencement of the se- of age, charms with native, and becond act. The author has great obli- witching simplicity, the effects of gations to that meritorious performer, which are more irresistible than the for the mode which he adopted to most laboured elegances of advanced disarm the rising indignation of the age. Of the performances we have audience. The materials of the co- witnessed Das Singspiel, or the Opemedy are good in themselves, but the ra, seemed to afford the greatest scope. author has adhered too closely to the to the various comic powers of this original; and in the Drama, it has little German troop. The theatre has been found inexpedient to build upon been generally attended by all the French foundations. Towards the people of fashion in town, that are conmiddle of the performance an opposi- versant with the German language. soon; But with you I am sure to be right to a tittle. "What a pity it were that we ever should sunder; One wedding, they say, seldom fails to make two; Let us be of the world, both the envy and wonder, Yield sweet Reason to Love, so shall Love " If ever we sever," the lady replied You are blind, young, and giddy,-'ère I be You must sign me a bond to be led and be taught; "Your wings must be clipt, and your quaver resign'd, Without me you never must venture to aim; I'll direct the keen arrow fit objects to find, So shall Love never know or repentance or blame." "Cupid led-Cupid pinion'd?" cried Love in a rage, " 'Tis what Venus herself ne'er attempted to do, Shall I, that hold monarchs like birds in a cage, Be shackled myself by an ugly old shrew? "You are mad to propose it"-" And you, Sir, are rude," Returned the mild goddess, unaltered her brow; ** If the views of all lovers were well understood, Disappointment would not be so frequent as now. "You know, Sir, my terms," she concluded and bow'd, "It is not my fault if we do not agree""But I say it is, Ma'am," cried Love very loud, "I call all to witness 'twas you refused me." In vain Reason argued;—with passion trans- Love rav'd, wept, and lastly flew off in a Andeer since that time, it is strongly re- That the parties thus severing never have met. Thus lash'd the old dog as beneath it he writ, "We cannot spare any to waste." I TO THE FAT MISS P. KNOW 'tis the custom to wish that the fair May grow more and more beautiful every year. But I'm an odd fellow, and this I confess, THE MUFFLED DRUM. X. C. By John Mayne, Author of the Poem of A 66 H, me! how mournful, wan, and slow, Still sadder flows the dole ome strain: And joins the melancholy train! How biest the brave man lays him down! His grave is glory and renown! To grace his obsequies attend; And ev'ry hero is his friend. And beauty drooping in the croud, The soldier's last funereal hymn― And ev'ry eye with grief is dim. The warrior who returns no more! Mr. Editor, |