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“Give me thy haud-lov'd friend adieu !"

The generous suff'rer cried,
“ I do forgive and bless thee too."

And having said it, died.
And Pity, who stood trembling near,

Knew not for which to shed-
So claim'd by both-her biggest tear,

The living or the dead.
Totnes, 18 Dec. 1803.

J. Carr,

[MR. EDITOR, The excessive pitch to which the writing of “ Sentimental Sonnets” is arrived, calls aloud for ridicule, or some other method of restraining this eternal source of affected sensibility and false taste. Many of those compositions, known by the general name of Sonnets, possess genuine merit; but they are easily distinguished from those of that description I have mentioned, and at which alone I mean the force of ridicule should be directed. Under this idea, if you should think the following attempt worthy of insertion in your Miscellany, it would be a high gratification to,

Mr. Editor, yours, &c. ' SATIRICUS.]


Sweet, cooling draught! that with refreshing taste
Dost add fresh vigour to my weary frame;

I wish thy copious stores might ever last :
But such a pleasure is too much to claim.

All pleasures, all enjoyments, are but short;
Thine too, alas! is transient as the rest!

When thou art ended I am sorry fort;
But while thy joys continue, I am blest! ;

Ah me! what dreadful sight assails mine eyes!
Strange horror seizes me, I know not what

Ten thousand terrors all before me rise ;
I see, I see the bottom of the pot! ,

How cruel Fate, that thus my peace destroys,
And takes away at once my porter and my joys!

HEALTH! kindest boon, the gods bestow,
The choicest good that mortals know,
How art thou woo'd! Successless he,
Full oft, who most doth bend the knee
To supplicate thy care;
While those, regardless of thy name,
Who search for joy, or seek for fame
'Midst other bliss-with revelry
E'en dwell—from painful sorrow free,
Thy greatest kindness share.

'Tis not like Fortune thou art blind,
Without distinction to mankind;
Or sought, or not, alike art found
Without, or choice, or view.
Ah! is it goddess, that as wealth,
And wit—and fancy-fame-so health
Life's primest blessings—all are vain-
Thou’ds't teach us-transient is their reign,
Each joy we prize--untrue ?


Car all the pleasures of the busy town
Efface thine image from my throbbing heart?
Can plunging headlong into riot, drown
The tender feelings which thine eyes impart !
No!-not the frozen regions next the pole,
Could teach my thoughts, unmov'd, to turn on thee;
Could tear thy valued image from my soul,
Or bid my breast from thy control be free!
Whilst breath shall linger near this beating heart,
Thou only wilt possess an empire there;
Bid ev'ry sorrow (with a smile) depart,
Or, frowning, doom my spirit to despair!
Oh! that the sigh, which issues from my heart,
Could to thy breast congenial love impart!
March 1, 1804.


Oh! view those black turrets, the tempests' rage braving,

Oh view, and then pity, the maid they enclose !
For as o'er her pale forehead the ringlets are waving,
There Rosalie sits, on her Herbert's name raving,
And sighs as remembrance recals former woes.

“Oh God! Oh God! my Hubert dies !

His eyes are sunk, his beauties fade,
And now, a bloody corpse he lies,

Who late my love with love repaid,"

No tears dim those eyes, that with vengeance are shining,

No grief cools the fever that burns in her veins, And she, who her charms round each heart once was twining, Now kneels in the gloom of insanity pining, And utters these words as she dashes her chains :

“ Fell murd'rer, your fury I brave,

No more will my love and I part,
This cold bosom shall still be his grave,
And his pillow shall be this fond heart.”


Poor poet! I pity your fate!
You seem to be quite at a stand :

Has the Muse become bashful of late?
Does she scruple to lend you a hand ?

0! Sir! I am ruin'd indeed !
The Muse is so coy and so cruel!

She makes my poor heart even bleed,
For want ofmma bason of gruel!

In vain I endeavour to woo her,
She's deaf to entreaty and pray’r:

Distrácted, forsaken, and poor,
I'm oppress'd with vexation and care.

I have scarcely a morsel to eat,
And hunger oppresses me sore;

I begin--but I ne'er can complete,
For, alas ! she inspires me no more.

How wretched the life that I spend !
Be advis’d (by experience I know it)

Whate'er choice of life you intend,
Take any but that of a poet!



DRURY-LANE. MARCH 13.---The only novelty produced at this theatre, since our last re. port, is a farce, called the Counterfeit, written by Mr. Franklin, the author of the Wandering Jew, Egyptian Festival, and various other successful dramatic pieces. The following is an outline of the plot:

The Governor of one of our Asiatic settlements has a large estate in this country, which is entrusted to the care of Squeezeall, a rapacious attorney; but the Governor, having been apprized of his misconduct, gives Colonel Ormond a power of attorney, which supersedes him as agent to the estate. On the passage of the Colonel to Europe, he is taken by the enemy at sea; but his servant Addle escapes, secures the Governor's power of attorney, and other documents, directed to Squeezeall, assumes the character of his master, and thereby gets possession of the estate ; the Governor unexpectedly returns to England, discovers the impostor, who is confounded at the unexpected arrival of his master, the seal Colonel Ormond, and confesses all his frauds. The main business is relieved by the loves of Miss Harcourt, disguised as her brother, Captain Hare court, and of Colonel Ormond, by the extravagance of Addle, and the legal tricks and quiddities of Squeezeall, with the follies of a selfish and antiquated maid, the aunt to Squeezeall.

There is much entertaining bustle and whimsicality of character in this farce. Addle, the Counterfeit, is well adapted to Mr. Bannister's style of acting; the situations in which he is placed are extremely ludicrous, and are rendered still more so by the constant intrusion of his real upon his assumed character. He is a 'Tom Errand dressed in Beau Clincher's clothes.' The jargon of the law runs very sportively through the character of Dashing Bob, a farcical, but not overcharged portrait of a knavish but fashionable attorney; and we believe there are many originals in the profession, to whom the likeness will strongly apply. Considerable comic effect is excited by Dizzy, the lawyer's deaf clerk, a hasty sketch, to which the quaint humour of Collins gives a very forcible colouring. The scenes in which the Counterfeit tries to make an impression on the virgin heart of Palmyra, an antiquated piece of vanity, affords a considerable increase to the mirth of the audience, who testified their approbation of the farce by.very loud and general applause.

Two pleasing little airs, a duet still more pleasing, and a mock procession, happily ridiculing the prevailing passion for stage pageantry, are introduced with very good efiect.

COVENT-GARDEN. MARCH 8.---The Paragraph, from the pen of Mr. Prince Hoare, was reseived with universal applause.

Mr. Toppit, -

Mr. Munden.
Frank Toppit, his nephew, ' Mr. Fawcett.
Fieldair, an apothecary,

Mr. Blanchard.
Herbert, nephew to Fieldair

Mr. Braham.
Sir George Ratie,

Mr. Claremont.
fashionable friends s

Mr. Simmons.

of Frank Toppit, Baron Bias, *)

(Mr. Klanert. Solomon, Mr. Toppit's servant, - Mr. Emery. Eliza, -

- - - Sign. Storace.

volba The principal comic characters sustained by Messrs. Munden and Fawcett, are a hea rty old fellow, (an elder Vapour, in My Grandmother,) who tancies himself afflicted with all the disorders incident to the human frame; and his nephew, a dashing young spendthrift, affecting fashionable connections, and ashamed of trade. They are drawn with Mr. Hoare's usual boldness of character and force of humour. The former, like Lenitive, smells a little of the shop, but he makes us laugh as much as the apothecary, and his duet with Storace, which may be called the Pharmacopeia duet, for it enum erates more medicines than are to be found in every doctor's shop, is a genuine antidote to melancholy.: Fawcett's song of Cross Readings, with the punning accompaniments, is also very whimsically written, and especially suited to the peculiar voice and manner of the performer.

The music, by Mr. Braham, has many excellent passages, which afford both him and Madame Storace (who hardly ever appeared to more personal advantage) very ample opportunity of exerting their admirable talents.

10.--- The Wheel of Fortune---Which has been so long going round at the other theatre, must now be allowed to take its turn at this house. Penruddock is one of Mr. Kemble's most powerful efforts in comedy, and the other characters prosper as well as can be wished in the hands of Munden, C. Kemble, Farley, Blanchard, and Miss Brunton.'

19.---For Signora Storace's benefit, Morelli, from the Opera House, appeared for the first time on the English stage. He sang with that lady in the celebrated duet of “Trunchette, Trunchette,” by Paisiello, and in a delightful trio with her and Braham by Sarti.


This favourite place of public amusement will open on Easter Monday, with a new grand Ballet, a new Pantomime, &c. The house has undergone considerable improvement-the interior is decorated in a neat and elegant style; the ground is buff or fawn colour, enriched with white ornaments, emblematical trophies and cameos. The present company also boasts of much novelty as well as talent, and their prospect of success is of the most flattering kind.


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