THE WINTER THEATRES. THE present season may be considered as a kind of era in theatrical history. It has proclaimed the dissolution, for a time at least, of that managerial compact by which the interests of the two winter houses were supposed, in a certain measure, to be united. There has been an interchange of performers without mutual privity. Each theatre has made an effort to circumvent its rival, and the courtesy which prevailed respecting the acting of particular plays, has been less strictly observed; but what forms the principal feature of this revolution, is the abduction of Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons from Drury-Lane theatre, after an uninterrupted reign there, of almost twenty years. Mr. Kemble is now a joint proprietor of CoventGarden; and as property without a power over it, is held by a precarious tenure, he is also invested with the management of the stage concerns. Mr. Lewis has resigned to him an office which, from the year 1782, he has discharged with the most indefatigable and zealous diligence, and with a popularity which nothing but very polished manners, and a well-regulated temper, could so long have ensured to him, in so arduous a situation. Mr. Lewis, however, though retired from this irksome duty, does not quit the stage. He will still continue to gratify the public with his exquisite talents in genteel and lively comedy, a walk in which he has never yet met with a competitor, and, if we may judge from present appearances, will leave, at his retirement, no tolerable successor. The alterations we have noticed must necessarily produce a considerable change in the system at both houses. This will be felt as the season advances. Hitherto nothing very remarkable has occurred to attract the notice of the theatrical amateur, unless it be that, in the play-bills of Covent-Garden, the same order is observed as in those of Drury-Lane; the characters being now arranged according to the degrees of society, and not, as before, correspondently with the rank of the part, or the reputation and consequence of the performer. The actor who plays the part of a knight or a baronet must give way to a candle-snuffer, should he happen to represent a member of the peerage. There is this difficulty attending Mr. Kemble's plan. Unless the manager be an able Master of the Ceremonies, he may chance to infringe the laws of precedency. In one respect the measure is certainly proper: it prevents the possibility of contention upon the subject, and any invidious comment or sensation among the performers. Mr. Kemble having taken the tide at the flood, (the three last seasons having been the most profitable that were ever known) he must be a very unskilful navigator indeed, if it do not lead on to fortune. ORIGINAL POETRY. Written on returning from Mildenhall in a very tempestuous Night, Friday, 7th Oct. with my Brother-in-Law, Mr. C. F. by assistance of a Guide and Warren Lantern over a great Extent of Heath. SONNET. O PILOT, not o'er sea, but sea-like land, II. Hopes not to guide the Rein, and Torrents pour, Of selfish Ease barr'd to the Wanderer's Quest; Deters thee, nor the Love of short and much wisht Rest. The same Guide drove a Lady home about twelve or fourteen years back, the Driver of her Chaise having left it. + The way thence to Troston is easy, Rude were their arms, but firm their hearts Unskill'd in military arts Their blessings few, but dear. By their heroic deeds inspir'd, All that is dear in polish'd life, Which ne'er your fathers knew: O rouse! and guard your best delights :Your country's hopes--your country's rightsYour country looks to you! By Virtue's prayers, by Age's fears, O spurn a faithless tyrant's yoke; Will HE, whose desolating bands When duty calls--when Heav'n inspires-- And Freedom's name endures, Britons, united, dare oppose Your breasts to all invading foes, And victory shall be yours? SONNET, TO MR. HENRY KIRKE WHITE, On his Poems lately published, BY ARTHUR OWEN, ESQ. HAIL! gifted youth, whose passion-breathing lay A mind, which wrapt in fancy's high-wrought dreams, To nature's veriest bounds its daring way Can wing: what charms throughout thy pages shine Proceed, sweet bard; and the heaven-granted fire May nought destroy, may nought thy soul divest Thou tun'st so magically; but may fame CANZONET: " &c. BY MR. H. K. WHITE, AUTHOR OF CLIFTON GROVE," ELEGY. WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT. No breath disturbs the lake's pure, placid breast; All, all within are sunk to balmy rest; I sigh, I weep,-but what avails the tear That Memory sheds o'er dear departed joys? Yet still she weeps, and still, when ev'ning falls, And "weeps the more because she weeps in vain." Widow'd of joy, when day's bright beams depart, For gloom and silence suit the sad of heart, 'Twas here I bow'd to Love's resistless sway; From Laura's eyes the dart, unerring, came: These shades have heard the fond, impassion'd lay, These bowers have witness'd scenes of bliss supreme. Ah me! how fleeting and how short the date The sun of all my happiness is set, And welcome now the long dark night of death. I bless its soft approach-I think it slow Fain would I prove the slumber of the dead; Fain would I try, where yonder yew trees grow, To lay this aching, this devoted head. Let other swains, beneath the leafy shade, Breathe the light flute, and weave the garland fair, Or lead the walk along the painted mead, And breathe the tender vow in Daphne's ear. Be mine, while wearied Nature strength supplies, D. M M-VOL. XVI |