SIR,

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE COUNTESS OF DERBY.

[THE EDITOR OF the mirror.

If you shall think the following lines worthy of a place in your very useful work, they are much at your service. They were written by the late General Conway, (the author of False Appearances,) on seeing Miss Farren, now Countess of Derby, perform Angelica, in "Love for Love.” They have never, I believe, been published before. I am, Sir, Your humble Servant,

H. H. E.]

ART OR NATURE.

ON MISS FARREN'S ACTING ANGELICA, IN LOVE FOR LOVE.

WHEN heav'n-born Nature vied with Art,
To grace their favourite Farren's part,
Her talents each admirer knew,

But none the source from whence she drew.
Thalia scann'd her air and voice,

And modestly declin'd the choice;
It puzzled ev'ry subtle wit,
E'en the wise jury of the pit;
With poor Sir Sam. 'twas acting all,
But all was nature with her Val.;
Judgment at length declar'd the cause
Too hard for any critic laws,
So 'twas agreed to compromise-
Neither, yet both, obtain'd the prize;
And while their various gifts they paid,
Each freely own'd her rival's aid.

THE PORTRAIT,

TRANSLATION,

BY THE LATE VICE ADMIRAL PARKER.

"Martin avoit," &c.

OLD Martin had a gossip wife,

Who prov'd the torment of his life.
Now, though the evil's not uncommon,
A man should wed a prattling woman-
H-VOL. II.*

Ten thousand instances declare it,
Yet we must own 'tis hard to bear it.
A limner Martin's help-mate drew;
The wench was handsome, though a shrew.
Enraptur'd, as he sketch'd the fair,
Our artist caught her very air,

Eyes, mouth, each individual feature;
The speaking portrait rival'd nature.
Martin, who ne'er (plain honest boor)
Had such a likeness seen before,
His judgment master'd by his fears,
At the first glance stopp'd both his ears.

LINES

ADDRESSED TO THE LATE NOEL DESENFANS, ESQ.'

BY JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ.

On his Descriptive Catalogue of a Collection of Pictures purchased for the late King of Poland.

THOUGH tasteless TIME, with slow but certain rage,
PAINTING'S Sublimest treasures will destroy,

Yet those preserv'd in thy descriptive page,
Uninjur'd shall posterity enjoy.

So well thy pen each MASTER'S Style displays,
Such truth and beauty in thy work we find,
That FANCY, charm'd, o'er ev'ry picture strays,
And feels the rich collection in the mind.

Nor bound to mere description's boldest reach-
Thy labours to a nobler fame aspire;
Knowledge so moraliz'd shall critics teach

To judge with candour, and with taste admire.

Hence future ARTISTS shall those labours prize,
Which rescue genius from its ruthless foe;
And hope another DESENFANS will rise,
In TIME's despite, to bid their colours glow.

See his character in the present number.

EPITAPH ON A LIVING ACTOR,

YE critics, who daily enlighten the nation, And talk of his pauses, and cold declamation; His regular emphasis cautiously probe, And scoff at the finical fold of his robe ! Before you his characters lightly decry, How this is too sombre, and that is too dry, 'Twere well if your critical wisdom could tell The man, on our stage, who can att them as well. Ye rival tragedians, who flutter your night, Rais'd up by the crowd for a holliday sight, Mere sons of a season! how quickly ye pass, Like the transient forms o'er a magical glass; But Kemble alone can this privilege boastWho sees him the oftenest, likes him the most. When a deluge of children the drama assail'd, And nonsense, and boyhood, and Betty prevail'd; When schoolboys presum❜d in the buskin to swagger, Each hoop-stick a truncheon, each pen-knife a dagger, How pleas'd were the public to turn to thy strain, Who brought common sense to the nation again; Till Fashion her idol could follow no more,

But damn'd the poor boy-whom she worshipp'd before. Old Shakespeare, in heaven, to fame still alive,

Rejoic'd to behold thee his drama revive,

When dead, shall receive thee aloft in the sky,

And thus, if I prophesy rightly, shall cry :

"Oh welcome! thrice welcome! by Providence plac'd "In regions of liberty, science, and taste;

"Here dwell, 'midst the chosen of genius above,

"And share, with my Garrick, my heart and my love. "And yet how my pleasure is shadow'd with woe, "When I think of the fate of my offspring below! "My darling Othello, my blood-tainted Thane,

My Richard, my Lear, my poor lunatic Dane,

"To the slow-winding Avon shall nightly repair,
"And hang on its willows their harps in despair;
Depriv'd, in thy death, of a guardian and friend,
"With spirit to decorate-taste to amend:
"Oh where upon earth shall my tragedies see
"Protectors, and actors, like Garrick-and thee."

J.

H 2

1

MEMORANDA DRAMATICA.

1807.

THEATRE ROYAL COVENT-GARDEN.

June 22. The Tempest.-Harlequin and Mother Goose. 23. Hamlet.*-Id.

* It is not in the wit of man to exercise more judgment in the study of a part, than Mr. Kemble has employed with so much success on Hamlet. Our commendation of his performance of this character, though perpetually repeated, is entirely unnecessary, for the whole town have witnessed his excellence in it, and duly appreciated the mind with which he animates the picture. If he is not so happy as some in the expression of tenderness, where is he, who numbers all his other advantages, and enjoys the fame of being able to add so many new beauties to the imagination of the most illustrious of our poets?

At the termination of this tragedy, Mr. Kemble presented himself to the audience, and addressed them, with great elegance, to the following effect:

"Ladies and gentlemen,-Before the curtain falls on the entertainments of the evening, and closes the present season, the proprietors and performers of this theatre are anxious to return you their sincere thanks for the encouragement and indulgence, which they have experienced from you, in their exertions to deserve your applause. They see their best reward in your approbation; and the expression of it, with which they have been highly flattered, will not tend to relax their endeavours, but to stimulate them to exhibit greater claims to the honour, which you have so liberally bestowed upon them. Until next September we most respectfully take our leave.”

Thus ended, not on the 23d, but on the 24th of June, (for Hamlet was not over till eleven o'clock) a most successful season, which, whatever the merit of the stately peacocks, Guinea hens, and Bantam cocks of this well stocked farm, is principally to be ascribed to Mother Goose, who, without depending on any play, drew profitable houses for ninety-two nights. That a goose should be able to do so much for a theatre must be very flattering and encouraging to many of our dramatists! Virgil may talk slightingly of a goose, “argutos inter strepere ANSER olores," but such a goose is to be preferred to any swan in the world! It has, however, been thought, and by no bad judges, that this attendance on "Mother Goose" is an impeachment of the taste and common sense of the public, but whatever it may prove, it is clear, from the song, that it is very natural, for "Birds of a feather will flock together."

CERTAIN MODERN DRAMATISTS.

We are now called upon to notice a further letter of our anonymous correspondent, with regard to what we advanced on the above subject in our last,-p. 430. The writer at present rests his defence of these authors on the encouragement bestowed on them by the public, and on the preference, which they seem to give to these inferior exhibitions. This argument is not badly put, but it has been handled better in another place, where it is used with a greater mixture of candour and truth. To save trouble we shall take advantage of Ozell's Edition. Vol. II.

The Canon in Don Quixote had begun a book of Knight Errantry, observing rule and art in its composition, but convinced that he should not please the illiterate, he pursued it no further.

"Though it is better," said he to the curate, "to be commended by the small number of the wise, and scorned by the ignorant multitude, *than vice versâ ; yet I will not expose myself to the censure of the giddy vulgar, whose principal business it is to read such books. But the greatest motive I had to lay aside, and think no more of finishing it, was an argument I formed to myself, deduced from the plays now usually acted: for I thought, if plays now in use, as well those which are altogether of the poet's invention, as those that are grounded upon history, be all of them, or, at least, the greatest part, made up of the most absurd extravagancies and incoherences; and yet the multitude sees them with satisfaction, and, though they are so far from being good, approves of them; if the authors who write, and the players who act them, say they must be so contrived, and no otherwise, because they please the generality of the audience; and if those which are regular, and according to art, serve only to please half a score judicious persons, who understand them, whilst the rest of the company cannot reach the contrivance ; and therefore the poets and actors say, they had rather get their bread by the greater number, than the applause of the less then, may I conclude the same will be the success of this book; so that when I have racked my brain to observe the rules, I shall reap no other advantage than to be laughed at for my pains. I have sometimes endeavoured to convince the actors that they are deceived in their opinion, and that they will draw more company, and get better credit by regular plays, than by those preposterous representations now in use; but they are so positive in their humour, that no strength of reason, nor even demonstration, can divert them from their conceit.

"The judicious grieve; the censure of which one (i. e. one of which) must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others." Hamlet. Shakspeare died on the same day as Cervantes.

"Twas caviare to the general." Hamlet.