All nature sinks around In stillest calm; upon the mountain-trees Nor streams to Echo give the faintest sound; The silent Moon is seen, And stars, with noiseless train, accompany their Queen, Thy choicest charms on my Rosalba show'r! While kindled in repose, Fancy, Love's secret friend, within her bosom glows. Nor, Echo! thou disturb the reign of Sleep: In noiseless train above, O shed your kindest beams, and guard my sleeping love! LEVITIES.-The THREE PHIALS, A Bon-vivant, some say t'was Quin, For all the who, the where, and when, This Bon-vivant one morning found The The day was past, the night was come, He saw the phials,-goodly show,- And how we may, on same condition, Please both ourselves, and our physician.' If these compositions prove agreeable to the reader's taste, he may promise himself much amusement from the present collection. The second volume consists chiefly of translations from Latin, French, and Italian poets. Some of the notes evince considerable erudition, particularly that on the Engubine tablet. We are glad to observe that Mr. Collier has obtained a numerous and most respectable list of subscribers. Art. 23. The Birth-Day: A Comedy, in Three Acts. As performed at the Theatre-Royal, Covent.Garden. Altered from the German of Kotzebue, and adapted to the English Stage. By Thomas Dibdin, Author of the Jew and the Doctor, &c. 8vo. 2s. Longman and Rees. 1800. This is a play altered from Kotzebue's Reconciliation, of which we have already given an account. Mr. Dibdin has judiciously omitted many sentimental passages, and has softened much of the absurdity of his original. He has even occasionally introduced a little humour, instead of the Teutonic insipidity which palled us in the unaltered play; and he has contrived, by several ingenious turns, to give some degree 1 degree of zest to those personages who produced the longest yawn from us in our review of the former. For all this indulgence, we feel ourselves obliged to Mr. Dibdin; and we should be still farther indebted to him, if he would give us some production more his own, which would not revive (as this does) the spectre of past disgust, even in those instances in which we approve his alterations. When we compare this performance with the drudging translations of Kotzebue which have so oftch excited our contempt, we cannot help repeating our surprize that persons so little acquainted with the feelings of the English public should presume to inundate it with the Vandalisms of authorship; of poetry we say nothing. In the dress which these translations wear, they tempt us to imitate the lines of Pope: "Past wit and present, living sense and dead, Art. 24. Adelaide: A Tragedy in Five Acts, as performed with 1800. Had not the title-page informed us that this tragedy was received on its representation with universal applause, we should not have conjectured this circumstance from a perusal of it. Surely the public theatrical taste must have experienced a remarkable change, if it was delighted with a drama like that now before us: which in a great degree consists of long dialogues, during which the stage must have resembled a theatre for declamation rather than for action. Pit, boxes, and gallery, have required something more to amuse them; and play-wrights have not ventured to court applause merely by the production of a dramatic poem, but have studied to keep the stage alive, and to make the dialogue subservient to the progress of the action; not to create incidents merely as pegs on which to hang a long string of speeches and rejoinders. How has it happened, then, that Mr. Pye has succeeded? The performers must have gone through their protracted lengths to admiration, if they won from the audience. their universal applause;' for the second act contains a single dialogue between Prince Richard and Adelaide, which, without the smallest relief or interruption, extends through almost nine pages; and in the fourth act we find another, between the same characters, which occupies above six pages more. In our opinion, the structure and conduct of this drama do not intitle it to distinguished notice. For the most part, it may be said to be taken from Tragedy's Common-Place Book. Richard and Adelaide, the hero and heroine, sigh and rave, accuse and pardon each other with all the rapid change of feeling which is usual with dramatic lovers; and though the language is good, and the senti ments are unexceptionable, we must own that, considered as the production of Mr. Pye, who holds no. mean station among the poets of the age, we have here been altogether much disappointed. One circumstance, however, we must applaud. The Laureat has not thought it necessary to introduce either the dagger or the bowl, to constitute his poem A Tragedy. King Henry indeed dies, but, not not on the stage; nor is his death occasioned by violence, but by grief co-operating with disease and old age. Now in thus banishing murder and assassination from our theatrical spectacles, he has given an example which merits imitation. Let us not be so barbarous as to seek amusement from sanguinary scenes, nor henceforth regard blood as essential to the essence of tragedy. Ought not all serious and soulmoving dramas, which strongly excite our Pity and Terror, to be considered as tragedies, though Death itself stalks not over the stage? Art. 25. The Tournament, a Tragedy; imitated from the celebrated German Drama, entitled Agnes Bernauer, which was written by a Nobleman of high Rank, and founded on a fact that occurred in Bavaria about the year 1435. By Mariana Starke. 8vo. 2s. R. Phillips. 1800. Tragedies founded on facts may transform facts into downright improbabilities; of which an instance is now before us. The Agnes of the Tournament could never be the Agnes of Nature. For the sake of the moral given in the last line, that innocence is the peculiar care of heaven,' her life is preserved against the truth of history: but the poet had better have planged her into the Danube, than have continued her existence to utter the following tame lameatation over the body of her father, murdered in her defence: . Behold how still, how spiritless he lies! Day after day, and year succeeding year, Yon sun shall kiss the earth which covers him, The observation is indeed very just: but it is more adapted to the mouth of an Epictetus than of an Agnes. While perusing this drama, we marked several passages for animadversion: but, where criticism can be so easily exercised, it is most manly and generous to forbear; we will therefore borrow a phrase from this lady, and We regret that we cannot express so favourable an opinion of Miss Starke's dramatic talents, as of her epistolary qualifications: see our account of her Letters from Italy, Rev. vol. xxxii. p. 225, and 387. Art. 26. The Egyptian Festival; an Opera, in Three Acts: as performed at Drury-Lane. Written by Andrew Franklin. 8vo. 25. Ridgway. 1800. A long and rather peevish preface to this drama inclined us to expect less merit in it than we found. The causes of the author's complaints are no others than those which all former writers for music have had to encounter. Metastasio had the same hardships to combat; yet they are not detailed in any of his prefaces. The musical composer in the present instance is not named; but there seems to have been some heart-burning between the poet and the musician; who on these occasions are often mutually jealous of each other. Instead of the union of poetry and music, they are generally at war in our theatres, when they should aid and assist each other. The The violation of the unities must be excused in an opera, particu larly a comic opera: The fable of this piece is divided into so many plots, that it would be difficult to say which was the principal. In musical dramas, however, there is no time for discussion, reasoning, or even for sentiment, except in the songs; the scenes must be short, and the changes frequent; and in this drama no one can complain of the want of stage business, and coups de théatre. There is indeed such a perpetual variety of character and incident, that the audience has no leisure for reflection on the unities or established laws of the drama by Aristotle and Horace: yet, though the incidents are rapid and wild, there is so much amusement of various kinds in this opera, that all but fastidious critics must have been interested and entertained. To enumerate the several means employed to produce the amusement, we might instance the three or four plots, for three or four pairs of lovers; the tyranny, treachery, and brutality of Mustapha; the humanity and generosity of the English Governor; the distress and danger of the dethroned Ali; the duty and affection of his son, by whose courage and activity his life was saved, and his kingdom restored; then the embellishments of music, and vocal powers of Madame Mara and Mrs. Bland; the spirited action and pleasing manner of singing of Miss de Camp; the humourous dialogue and excellent acting of young Banister and Suett; together with the scenes, decorations, and dancing; all of which must have combined to please that part of the audience which was at all so disposed. Art. 27. Ignez de Gastro; a Portuguese Tragedy, in Three Acts. Written by Don Domingo Quita. Translated by Benjamin Thom. son, Esq. 12mo. IS. Vernor and Hood. 18oo. The affecting story of Inez de Castro has taken classical rank in this country, from Mickle's delightful versification: but we shall not advise any reader of the translation of Camoens to resort, for farther pleasure, to the drama before us. After every allowance is made for the disguise of a meagre prose-version, we can extract no matter for commendation from the Portuguese tragedian. Art. 28. Petrarchal Sonnets, and Miscellaneous Poems. By William The author of these verses informs us that they were produced at the early age of sixteen, and that their composition served to relieve him from more severe studies. To write poetry at the age of sixteen is natural enough, but to publish it is not very prudent. The antients, before they drank wine at table, poured out a cup on the floor, as a libation to the gods. In like manner, it should be a religious duty with young writers to offer their first fruits to Vulcan. The gentle bard before us seems to have met with more of the indulgence of patronage, than of the wholesome discipline of criticism; and we should be sorry to damp the agreeable feelings with which his list of subscribers must have inspired him. A farther perseverance in his studies will convince him of the necessity of writing a more correct, and a more English style; and will cure him of the |