Poetry. The Bride's Dirge. The Western Islanders imagine that an apparition resembling a Mermaid, called Flora, or the Spirit of the Green Isle, always precedes the death of a young and lovely Bride. This Apparition has been lately seen. : A VOICE said from the silver sea, "Woe to thee, Green Isle! - woe to thee !" The Warden from his watch-tow'r bent, Yet from th' unfathom'd caves below, The Warden from his tow'r looks round, And now he hears the slow waves bringing The Spirit of the Isle is singing.- Flora's Song. I come in the morn!-I come in the hour Thou wilt rest to-night by Flora's side! The eye I touch must be soft and blue, As the sky where the stars are gleaming; To-morrow a shroud his hope shall hide! I saw them wreathing a crown for thee, But thy bridal robe was a winding-sheet, And the loves that crown'd thee sat to spin it... Euron. Mar. Vol. LXXΙΙ. Νου. 1817. 3 M Where youthful Hope her brow was twining, To hail the promised joy to-morrow. And fair as Heaven's own holiest light, Were the visions of bliss that illumined the night; And pure as Cherubim's golden dreams, Were the wishes and prayers on that eve ascending; And soft as a Summer sun's parting beams, The rainbow of promise its tints was blending: The sun is set, -the stars are shining, To deck the bier where bliss lies shrouded. And the lonely bud on its parent bough, A Kingdom's Heiress yields her breath, To the deep and dreary grave descended. : - Where the sainted Bride is sleeping, The Spirits' Dirge. Where the Angels of Innocence watch round its bier. Farewell, sweetest Blossom of Albion's renown! Tho' sad are the tears that a Kingdom weeps o'er Thee; Thursday, November 6th, 1817. : 0 Claremont. CLAREMONT! loved Claremont, no more Though with rapture we hail'd thee before, Begone all ye pleasures, and joys, In each bosom give sorrow a birth. O'er the paths of thy late cheerful lawn. There's no Father who feels not a pain, There's no Mother who owns not a pang, There's no Husband but sympathy feels, т. L ver and well sustained a piece of the kind as has been brought before the public. a The scene is laid in the Highlands, during the time of the Scots rebellion, and the piece opens with a gypsy overture, and overthrow by Keumuir, Then follow the grievous loves of Kenmuir and Ellen, the daughter of a worthy old Englishman, who prefers the rough hospitality of the Highlands to his own country. His son Edward, fine spirited youth, and serjeant in a loyal Highland corps, while on a visit to his father, overhears part of a conversation between the young laird and his sister, and inflamed by a suspicion that the purpose of the former must be seduction, he arms himself and follows him. Having overtaken Kenmuir, he challenges him, they fight, and the young laird is apparently mortally wounded, and, too late, explains the pature of his connection with Ellen, Edward blames his own precipitancy, and receives the forgiveness of Kenmair, who entrusts a case of jewels to his care, as a present for his sister. The spot where the duel is fought is near the gypsies' retreat-they find Kenmuir, but discovering that the spark of life is not extinct, they drag him to their cave as a prize of no lit tle worth. Edward, in the mean time, is apprehended for the murder of the laird, the jewels found in his possession are presumptive evidences of his guilt, and as martial law reigns at the time in Scotland, he is sentenced to be shot. This fatal incident gives rise to many interesting scenes and hair-breadth escapes; till at length, aided by a true son of Caledonia (honest Donald, a Highland bagpiper) Kenmuir escapes, and is restored to Ellen. Edward is liberated, the gypsies are surrounded and taken prisoners, and the curtain drops. The scenery is very effective; the dresses good; and the music (by T. Cook) is in some parts very sweet, and generally rises above mediocrity. It is but justice to the performers to say, that they all exerted themselves with success. Miss Kelly gave great effect to the character of Ellen, and received the unanimous plaudits of the audience, though there was rather too much of violent grief allotted to her share. H. Johnson's Donald was an excellent piece of acting, and served to relieve the seriousness of the other parts. The youthful soldier was well peurtrayed by Wallack; and Knight, as an aged and virtuous father, was nature itself-the other characters were very well supported, among whom we must not omit to mention Messrs. Bengough and Smith, (gypsies) nor Penley, as the young Laird Kenmuir. Mr. Henry Johnson has been appointed the Acting Manager of this theatre, in the room of Mr. Raymond. He is well acquainted with theatrical affairs, active and intelligent: so that we may hope for rational amusements, well got up, under his direction. The young lady, whose name is Robinson, whose debut in Desdemona we then noticed favourably, has repeated the part twice, and does not decline in our estimation on further acquaintance. And though it is not strictly true that she never appeared upon any stage before, we are informed that her experience was limited to a very few preliminary essays, some weeks ago at Richmond. Nov. 3. Mr. Kean performed Hamlet, in spite of nature. It is among his worst characters, but has been too often and ably criticised to be tangible with novelty. It was succeeded by the excellent farce of Love a-la-Mode, with which we should have been much better pleased had we never seen it before. But the cast was inferior to our recollection. Mr. J. Johnstone, was truly the unequalled Sir Callaghan, but there the superlative ended. Mr. H. Johnston's Sir Archy, though a clever and forcible performance, and well delivered in point of dialect, wanted the pointed sarcastic manner, the sardonic grin, and rich colouring of Cooke; of Cooke, who stood alone in parts of this description. To Harley's Squire Groom, also, only moderate praise can be given; Lewis has not been long enough from the stage to admit of a comparison favourable to a successor. Beau Mordecai was insignificant indeed in the hands of Mr. Hughes; even had Simmons never played in the sallow-looking Jew. "Love in a Village." Miss Byrne made her sixth appearance in a new character, Rosetta in Love in a Village, and fully maintained her high estimation with the public. Her talent caused the Opera to go off extremely well, and she was encored in several of her songs. A Polacca, by Mr. G. A. Hodson, of Dublin, composed as we surmise expressly for her, was introduced. It is very good, though not so scientific as many we have heard; still it enables the singer sufficiently to evince the scope and quality of the voice. We need scarcely criticise, for it is but to repeat our recorded opinion. There is a great deal not only to please in her manner, but her voice is of a very excellent description, in addition to which she possesses correctness of time and good intonation. These qualities combined with good articulation, and an excellent idea of acting, must continue to ensure the applause she has met with from a British audience. Cooke's Young Meadows was very respectable. Dowton, J. Johnstone, Knight, Mrs. Sparks, and Mrs. Bland, excellent. Nov. 21. The respect paid to the existing most unfeigned state of public feeling, by opening this house last night, and then for a charitable purpose, and allowing no performance to take place, except a most solemn and appropriate selection of music, is entitled to the warmest praise; and the conduct is proved by the event to be as politic as decorous, for the general opinion is loud in its praise, and we have never witnessed, upon any occasion, a fuller assemblage of good company than were collected last night. The free-list was suspended, and not an order admitted: nevertheless every seat in the pit and galleries were occupied long before the rising of the curtain, and before the conclusion of the first act the boxes were equally full. Upon this occasion the theatre was hung with funeral emblems; the pillars were entwined with bands of black cloth, which were secured at the capitals by knots of white ribbands. The box usually occupied by the Princess CHARLOTTE was hung with black, the draperies and front being of the same; and over it was an escutcheon, with the arms of the Prince LEOPOLD aud his Consort, the latter in a sable field, and ornamented with true lovers knots in white ribbon. The effect of the whole was extremely affecting, and operated very perceptibly upon the company, who, during the whole evening, manifested a state of mind highly creditable to the national character. The music selected by Sir George Smart, and performed under his direction, was inost judiciously chosen, every part of it being exactly adapted to the occasion. It consisted chiefly of Mozart's Requiem, one of the noblest efforts of human genius, the sublime Funeral Anthem of Handel, and the last act of the Messiah, with the Dead March in Saul, and a few sacred songs intermixed. The performers who excited the chief attention were Mrs. Salmon and Miss Goodall. The former, who, in our opinion, has no rival, seemed resolved to exert all her astonishing and delightful powers to heighten the effect of this performance, and her success was undisputed. Miss Goodall's unaffected simplicity, her correct taste, and melody of voice, were never more apparent. She sang with great pathos, and seemed to be impressed by a recollection of the notice which she received at Claremont upon one of the very last occasions that music and cheerfulness resounded within the walls of that now melancholy man-/ sion. Two songs of Handel were allotted to Miss Byrne, but this species of music is certainly not her forte. Lindley, who accompanied an air on his violoncello, electrified the audience by his masterly performance. This song was loudly encored, and we really pitied the singer for the very subordiuate part which the audience appeared to ascribe to him. After the Dead March in Saul, the following Monody, written by Thomas Campbell, Esq. was spoken by Mrs. Bartley : Britons! although our task is but to shew The scenes and passions of fictitious woe, Think not we come this night without a part In that deep sorrow of the public heart, Which like a shade hath darken'd every place, And moisten'd with a tear the manliest face. The bell is scarcely hush'd in Windsor's piles, That toll'd' a requiem through its solemn aisles For her, the Royal Flow'r, low laid in dust, That was your fairest hope, your fondest mouro, |