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be exceedingly painful; and I am opinions together. The landmark, quite willing to believe with all the he assured me, is still pointed out varying traditions in the dairy dis- by the peasantry, stained with blood trict of Suffolk. Once indeed, in my -no one presumes to touch it-for youthful and undiscerning days, Í the spirits of the two Neylands are had the hardihood to endeavour to laid below it-and they would be let draw aside the supernatural veil loose again on earth, were it removed. which belief had extended over the He had the charity to assure me, catastrophe of the house of Neyland that he thought good old feelings -it was looked upon as an insult to and beliefs, and salutary terrors of the county—and I lost many a evil, and dread of the invisible world, choice and wonderful legend--for would be cherished and strengthened the flowing founts of ancient stories by the publication of this legendinstantly dried up-and I lost an and he bade me hope that the proannual present of two noble cheeses, prietors of the butter and cheese which the rich pastures of Colden- portion of Suffolk would reward my game produced. When I had writ- desire to signalize their country by a ten thus far, I submitted my narra- mark of their respect worthy of my tive to a worthy old pastoral pro- merit, and of their own unrivalled prietor of Suffolk, who was pleased pastoral productions. to commend the spirit in which I had

NALLA, united all the circumstances and



Sweet thornless rose,

Surpassing those
With leaves at morning's beam dividing;

By Love's command

Thy leaves expand
To show the treasure they were hiding.

Oh tell me! Flower,

When hour by hour
I doating gaze upon thy beauty,

Why thou the while

Dost only smile
On one whose purest love is duty ?

Does pity give,

That I
That smile to show my anguish over ;

Or cruel coy,

Is it but joy
To see thy poor expiring lover?

Whate'er it be,

Or cruelty,
Or pity to the humblest, vilest;

Yet can I well

Thy praises tell,
If while I sing them thou but smilest.

may live,

Chiabrera was born in 1552, and died at the age of 85 or 86. I have not sent the original, because every body can refer to it in Mur. II. 466.

When waters pass

Through springing grass,
With murmuring song their way beguil ng ;

And flowerets rear

Their blossoms near,
Then do we say that Earth is smiling,

When in the wave

The Zephyrs lave
Their dancing feet with ceaseless motion;

And sands are gay

With glittering spray,
Then do we talk of smiling Ocean.

When we behold

A veil of gold
O'erspread the sky at morn and even,

And Phæbus' light

Is broad and bright,
Then do we say 'tis smiling Heaven.

Though Sea and Earth

May smile in mirth,
And joyous Heaven may return it;

Yet Earth and Sea

Smile not like thee,
And Heaven itself has yet to learn it.

N. O. H. J.

NOTE TO ELIA, ON THE “ PASSAGE IN THE TEMPEST.” Sin-In reading the last number will, I am sure, to others, when the of the LONDON MAGAZINE, I was inadequacy of words clearly to exmuch struck by the elucidation of a press, and accurately to define our passage in the Tempest, proposed by ideas, is considered. It is evident to you ; more, I confess, by its inge- me, that the very same sentence must muity than its truthfulness, for we frequently be capable of more than all have our different theories on one meaning; especially in poetry or such passages, and self-complacency eloquence, where propriety of lanmakes each think his own the true guage is transgressed by prescripone. Will you permit me to offer tion, and whose very essence consists mine to your notice. First, however, in a perpetual abuse of speech. The I will take the liberty of stating my passage in the Tempest is a good inobjections to yours. The beautiful stance of this ambiguity; it will suit application you make, of an historical your hypothesis, as well, perhaps, as fact to the solution of this poetic dif- any other explanation which can be ficulty, is too much of a mere hypo- given of it. Shakspeare might certhesis, calculated more to inveigle tainly have “ come fresh from readthan convince the judgment. At the ing some older narrative of this desame time, it would be presumption, liverance of Algier by a witch," and and I do not take it upon me, to assert might have “ transferred the merit that your hypothesis is absolutely a of the deed to his Sycorax;” nor are false one. It may give the true solu- his words of so determinate a chation of the passage ; but how are we racter as to render such an hypoto know that it does? The fashion so thesis either impossible in fact, or prevalent among critics of violently improbable. I therefore do not feel denouncing one commentary or elu- myself warranted in rejecting your cidation, to exalt another, has always sense of the lines, as inadmissible or appeared to me very absurd, and incorrect. But if there is anothe

sense, which can be fairly put upon which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch, the passage, as convenient to the Sycorax, words as this, and less dependent on For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terhypothetical conjecture of what might

rible have been passing in the author's To enter human hearing, from Argier, mind when he wrote it,-we are

Thuu know'st, was banish'd; for one thing

she did, bound by all the laws of just criti. They would not take her life : Is this not cism to give it the preference. I am true ? so much the partisan of my own Ar. Ay, sir. theory, as to think that such a sense Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither is that which I am about to propose.

brought with child, Besides, you will perhaps agree

with And here was left by the sailors. me; that it is not quite in Shak

Do you not think, Sir, that this speare's manner to afford his readers text fully substantiates my theory, such brief and ambiguous hints upon and that it is no longer necessary to historical matters, as this would be,

resort to an hypothesis for the eluwere your sense of the passage a- cidation of the passagedopted; he is always fond of show

-for one thing she did, ing his learning, without much re

They would not take her life. spect either to place or occasion, and would most probably have given the dently what Shakspeare in his Mer

The « one thing she did” is evihistory of the Witch of Algiers in full, had her image been in his mind. chant of Venice, with great delicacy Does it not also appear somewhat calls “ the deed of kind;" and this subversive of your theory, that in his sense, though by no means obvious, work, Ogilby neglects quoting the is justly inferrible from the context “ older narrative," which you sup. I have

not been able to discover any

Why then should it not be preferred ? pose the “ dramatist had come fresh from reading,” if such narrative ever

thing in the rest of the piece inconexisted? His obscure authorities are

sistent with the meaning here attri

buted to these lines; you, perhaps, apparently all Flemings or Spaniards, who probably accompanied Charles may be more successful. A friend to Algiers. Here, you see, in this objected to me, that the law is,-to supposition of an older narrative, is spare the mother only till the birth of a second hypothesis, another air-built her child, and therefore that the castle on the top of the first one. How- Witch, instead of being exiled at ever, without more ado, let me bring once, would have been kept till she forth my own ridiculus mus, and have

was delivered, and then punished done. The sense which I always at- chiefs.” But poets are not expected

with death for her “ manifold mistributed to the passage is this : uno verbo, the Witch Sycorax was present and legal discrimination, not to

to dispense justice with such nice nant;--and that humanity which teaches us to spare the guilty mother immediate necessity of expelling Sy

speak what might have been the for the sake of her embryo innocent, was imputed by Shakspeare to the either by death or banishment; the

corax from the Algerine community Algerines on this occasion. Let us see how the context bears out this former of which was forbidden by explication :

the existing circumstances of her si

tuation. Prospero. Hast thou forgot

Hoping to have made a convert of The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age, you, by the above more simple and

less conjectural explanation of this Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot obscure passage, and most heartily

her ? Ariel. No, sir.

agreeing with you on the general Pros. Thou hast ; Where was she born ? ineptitude of the notes and commen

taries which overwhelm the text of speak; tell me. Ar. Sir, in Argier.

Shakespeare, Pros. Oh, was she so ? I must,

I remain, Sir, with great respect, Once in a month, recount what thou hast

Your humble servant, been,


and envy,

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from their trance until the curtain Fuzio.

falls,—when they seem to bustle and Mr. Milman's long poem, with a rub their eyelids, and gape for the serious termination, called Fazio, has Cataract and the cattle. Mrs. Bunn been revived for the sake of intro- has a fine person-a deep monotoducing Mrs. Bunn to London town nous but effective voice and features again in the part of Bianca. This commanding, though not beautiful : lady is well known as Mr. Maturin's we shall be very much surprised, Miss Somerville ; and we remember however, if she should ever be able her lofty port and solemn melody of 'to do more than act poetry on the voice, as perfectly as if Bertram's stage. But we, like true judges, must day were come again, and Mrs. Bunn bear a wary eye. had not cut short her engagement The Cataract of the Ganges. and her name—and the public were Mr. Elliston, having for some time again being drammed with the double given “ great note of preparation' proof romance of Bertram, and were at the bottom of his bills, about a deluging their taste with deep pota- fortnight ago produced the mighty tions of Maturin's best !

Afterpiece, which was to bestride the The less Mrs. Bunn has to do, the theatrical world like a Colossus, while better she does it. She acts the pas- the petty theatres were to walk unsive to perfection. There are few der its huge legs, and peep about for tragedies therefore in which she can dishonourable pits. Gad-a-mercy!

the find a leading character to represent; subject makes us figurative. We for authors are in the habit of bur- heard whispers (for managers' whisthening their heroines with some mo- pers are as loud as north winds!) tives and cues for passion, and do that this piece was to make all prenot commonly seek to make statues vious melodrames hide their dimin of them. In the present day, to be nished heads! The scenery was to be sure, Mrs. Bunn is more likely to be so magical in its beauty, as to call a suited than if she turns to the Ot- blush up to the cheek of Mr. Grieve : ways, the Rowes, or to the old times the dresses were to make the coronabefore them. Poetry and not action tion splendours seem dull as the tatcharacterizes the tragic drama of the ters at a beggar's supper, and render present age-and description takes immortal “Banks and assistants !” the place of actual incident. Imo- and the feathers were to be sufficient gene, in Bertram, was a lady of strict to stuff nine-and-forty beds of Ware ! contemplative habits: sie talked only Indeed, finally to crown the scene, of the moon and riven hearts and the horses were, in goodness and in ruined towers--and stood through numbers, to exceed all previous exfive sombre acts the statue of sorrow hibitions trebly! all these wonders and romance.

Here Mrs. Bunn was were whispered—and more! But as at home! Her fine form was never we are now, like Mrs. Brulgruddery, disturbed : her inelancholy tones were “ only foretelling a thing, after it has never broken: her looks were ever happened,” we shall come at once on the same. She scarcely walked in this side of the first fall of the Cataher sleep. The audience was lulled ract, and describe it as imperfectly into admiration of her; and her fine and confusedly as it really appeared monotony made her fame. In Fazio, to us. she has the same opportunity of look- The rising of the curtain discovering and repeating a long heroic poem; ed to us a field with a sort of bloodand the people in the pit catch and red distance, and men and horses enjoy their three-and-sixpenny dreams stretched about, after a battle we with the most still and charmed de- presume. This occurred about half light. They sit lulled by the lady's past nine. Fine men and women Æolian tones, by the silence of her from this moment have their exits and features, and by the studied music of entrances before splendid scenery unthe poetry, and are not awakened til midnight, when, after a tumult Dec. 1823.

2 T

of guns, trumpets, blunderbusses, quiet seas. He is dressed, after the drums, and thunder, the green curtain picture, in fur, and carries a gun on once more descends quietly upon the each shoulder; and, when a difficulty eyes and ears of men. If, like Jaf- does occur, he invariably turns to a fier, we were threatened with the tor- pocket edition of Defoe, to see how tures, unless we « discovered the his original acted in a similar emerplot,” we must suffer ourselves to be gency. made a foot taller, and to have our The piece, our readers will gather, thumbs pulled off like lobsters' claws; is an empty expensive glittering toy, for we absolutely know no more a- which the manager knows will catch bout it than we do about Mrs. Do- that great foolish blue-bottle, the pubnatty, or the author of Waverley. lic. Not an incident--not a word of We certainly know that one bright the dialogue is worth remembering! scene succeeded and exceeded an- If there be a joke attempting to be other, until our eyes seemed dilated heard- the horses applaud it by anand double gilt, like a couple of ticipation--and the ear is filled with Waterloo medals and we also know nothing but excessive hoof! We say that the bridal procession, out of an little of the horses yet, because we arch very similar to the one in the shall presently have to be at a great Adelphi, was rich enough to shame cattle show at the Govent Garden any eastern mockery! The men were piece, and we may as well review covered with tinsel from top to toe, both of the cavalry corps at once. like their little gingerbread fellow- We must say the Cataract itself creatures at Bartholomew fair--and rather disappointed us as a waterfall. the horses, three or four abreast, It was something like the pouring of drawing a real car with patent axle- . a good tea-pot, only flatter; it was, trees, rolled grandly before the lamps in truth, no broader than a yard of under plumes which made it almost sixpenny ribband, and, though it was doubtful whether they would tramp real water, if it had run down with or fly. When the stage was full, we a little spirit, we think the mixture only felt anxious to go without the would not, in the gallery's eyes, have theatre, and see whether the streets been amiss. A lady rode up it on were empty of the people. There horseback, and, no doubt, astonished

scene very cleverly ma- the salmon in that quarter of the naged; a cottage was burned as a Ganges. Perhaps she was herself beacon light in the front of the stage, half a fish? And, indeed, as the merand shortly this beacon was answer- maid has been missing for some time ed on a promontory far at sea, and from the Turf Coffee House, might the flames reflected over the waves, not this have been one of her freaks? brightly or faintly as the fire rose or We ourselves could have walked up fell.

the fall in pumps, and not have The performers had little to do, wetted the upper leathere. The except to talk a sort of cockney-Per- water, indeed, did not come down in sian, and to carry about three or four a volume—it appeared in the most square yards of gold robe. Wallack, miserable of sheets. The piece, ita kind of dry nurse to the piece, was self, has since been published in a formal and tame, probably from an similar manner. anxiety for the welfare of the costly One of the periodical prints put and ricketty bantling entrusted to his last week a very dull joke (which we care. Miss Povey, Mr. Harley, and made several months ago) into the Mr. Archer all exerted themselves, Imouth of Mr. Rogers. It was an and, to use a vulgar phrase, “ made allusion to the short-sightedness of the the best of a bad job.” The idea of public, and the kindness of the maIlarley's character was good, but the nagers in providing a pair of specauthor evidently had no power of tacles for its use. turning it to account. He played a thing at best—but, at this time, it is character called Jack Robinson, who worse from its want of application. having read himself wild on Robin- The public is known to have a catason Crusoe, had taken a voyage in ract in its eye nightly; and, Mr. search of a wreck and a desert island, Ware, we take it, could do more constantly be wailing fair weather and good, than Mr. C. Kemble and Mr.



This is a poor

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