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She took for truth the vows he gave,

The banns were ask'd, the bride-maids too;
They led her to the church 'tis true,
But then they led her to her grave.

Poor soul, she knew not to deceive,
Nor fear'd it from her lover's tongue;
Too soon he sought to do her wrong,
And left her evermore to grieve.

At sun-set, or by moon-light fair,

She climb'd the rocks above the Rhone,
To weep and meditate alone,

Or gather pansies for her hair.

But ah! one evening weaving
A wreath to dress her brow,
The bank her foot deceiving;
And no one near to save
The enthusiast from the wave,

She sunk, and left the villagers to tell her tale of woe:

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VOL. 2.-No. 8.

R

PUBLIC

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THE Romantic Ballet of the Corsair, produced at the end of last

month, at the Hay-market Theatre, has proved highly attractive. Its merits, however, consist in a judicious combination of musical talents, splendid scenery, superb dresses and decorations, appro priate machinery, and a rapid succession of business, more than in just or natural interest.

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} Fishermen

Fiorita, (the Bride)

Spogliata,

Mr. H. Johnston.
Mr. Farley.
Mr. Howell.
Master Menage.

Mr. J. Palmer.

...

{

S Mr. Trueman.

Mr. Caulfield.

Mrs. Gibbs.

Miss B. Menage.

Corsairs, Villagers, Fishermen, &c.

The fable of this spectacle is so very complicated, and of so heterogeneous a nature, that any attempt to give a satisfactory detail of it would be fruitless. Its parts bear no proper relation to each other, and the eclaircissement is effected by inadequate and inconsistent means; but the morality of the piece possesses many claims to encomium, and frequently becomes the source of generous sympathy and virtuous edification.

To the performers the ballet is indebted for much of its success: H. Johnston, in the part of Tomar, displays a vigour, depth of feeling, and discrimination of action, which are rewarded by general plaudits; and Farley, Mrs. Gibbs, and Miss Menage, gave every possible effect to their respective characters.

An imitation of the celebrated pas seul of Parisot, introduced by Miss Menage, and executed with grace and agility, is like the ori ginal, constantly rewarded with an almost universal encore.

The music, composed by that able master, Dr. Arnold, is distinguished for many passages of taste and science; but its best panegyric is its fitness to the subject.

The pencil of Whitmore, which first brought itself into notice by several admirable delineations in the pantomime of Obi, has added

very considerably to that artist's reputation, by a variety of excellent sketches, both natural and imaginary. The most striking parts of the scenery are, the distant view of Mount Vesuvius, with the burning lava pouring down its side; the Castle of the Corsair, of which the internal sections are disposed with great architectural effect; a grand view of the rising Sun, and the Demolition of the Castle, which is accompanied by an uncommon energy and glow of fine colouring.

The dresses, decorations, and machinery, reflect considerable credit on the taste and skill of the different artists, and the libera

lity of the manager. Although we cannot praise the inventive powers of Mr. Farley, the author of the ballet, it must be acknowledged, that he has evinced a complete knowledge of stage effect, in arranging and combining the business and incidents of the fable,

FRENCH DRAMA.

THEATRE FRANÇAIS DE LA REPUBLIQUE, THE tragedy of Tancred was performed at this theatre on the 2d of last month, for the purpose of introducing, for the first time, Mademoiselle Gros, a very young lady, in the character of Ame naide. The Parisian critics speak of her person and performance in the following terms:

"Mademoiselle Gros is a child in the play-bills only. Nature seems to have accelerated her growth, for her own glory, and the splendour of our drama. She displays a premature majesty and energy of character. Her deportment is that of a princess. Her phisiognomy, however, is somewhat grave, and even austere; her features are bold to a degree, occasionally bordering on harshness; and her figure is rather handsome than agreeable and interesting. Her exterior, in short, is such as is perfectly suited to the Her miones, Emilias, and all those heroines of a masculine character, who are hurried by the vehemence of their emotions beyond the ordinary sphere of their sex.

"Her countenance does not appear to be sufficiently flexible; her eyes do not possess much expression; and we could have wished that those mirrors of the soul had been somewhat larger. Her voice is sonorous and of considerable compass. Her articulation, indeed, is rather indistinct; but this defect proceeds from a lisp, which is by no means ungraceful. Her declamation was extremely unequal; and this is one of the indispensable talents of her profession, which she seems to have least cultivated. Her utterance was sometimes too precipitate, and at other times slow, monotonous, and whining. Her tones were not uniformly correct; she occasionally gave too great a range to the momentary impetuosity of her feelings, and sometimes discovered a pert vivacity, which ill accords with the dignity of tragedy. The following verse, for instance,

"

Et je ne puis souffir ce qui n'est pas Tancrede,"

She repeated with all the pettishness of a lady who meets with

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some unlucky accident at her toilet. She displayed great variety in her gesticulations; but it was that sort of variety which ultimately becomes uniform by frequent recurrence in the same order of succession. It was too often perceivable from her stiff and formal measured mode of action, that all her expressions, and even her pauses, were dictated to her; and that she was merely performing the part of a scholar on the stage. But she seems to possess a fund of ardent sensibility, which study, aided by experience, may develope and direct. Her performance, imperfect as it is, exhibits an energy and steadiness far above her years, and seems to disclose the germ of real talent.

"It would be difficult to describe the general enthusiasm excited by the appearance of this new dramatic phoenomenon. She throughout experienced the warmest bursts of applause, and sometimes even in passages where marks of disapprobation would have been more proper. A finished actor, in the very midst of his career, would have attained the summit of his ambition, had he met with so flattering a reception. But hope has always excited greater transport than reality. The artist, who is already completely formed, gives us pleasure; the one who has but just commenced promises to give it. The former shews us all that he is, and all that he will be; the imagination invests the latter with qualities, which, perhaps, he may never possess. But this excessive favour of the public would prove insidious, and even fatal, to a young actress, if she were to regard it, not as a mark of encouragement, but as a debt of justice."

ENGRAVING.

GRAND ATTACK of VALENCIENNES, engraved by W. BROMLEY, from the original picture painted by P. J. DE LOU THERBOURG, Esq.

Having been favoured with a sight of a finished proof of this plate, we have the pleasure of announcing to the public, the speedy publication of a print in the like manner, which, for effect and tasteful execution, has perhaps never been exceeded. We have for some time viewed, with much satisfaction, the peculiar merits of this young artist, and have no doubt that the excellence of the performance will firmly fix his reputation, and add another name to the list of eminent engravers of the British school.

When the production is fairly before the public, we shall cer tainly comment farther upon it, as we know not at present how far we are entitled to publish the remarks we have already made.

ANECDOTE OF VOLTAIRE.

THE following anecdote is related by the celebrated French

tragedian, La Rive, in his reflections upon acting, recently pub lished at Paris:

"I shall never forget the interest which this great man (Voltaire) took in promoting excellence in the histrionic art. He had wit

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nessed my performance of Zamore fifteen days before his death, and was pleased to express to me his approbation of my conception and execution of the character. Encouraged by this notice, which did me so much honour, I called upon him about a week after, to entreat he would hear me rehearse a new part in which I was to come forward. I found him very much oppressed, and almost on the point of death. He said to me upon my approach; "Ah, my friend! I can no longer take any concern in the affairs of this world. I feel that I am dying." "Sir," replied I, with sincere grief, "I am deeply affected at the state in which you are; but I am to perform the part of Titus to-morrow, and trusting I should find you in good health, I had presumed to hope you would condescend to hear me rehearse it." He instantly fixed his penetrating eye upon me, his countenance resumed all its wonted animation, and raising his hands, he exclaimed, "What, you play Titus to-morrow! Then the fear of death shall not prevent me from hearing you throughout." He was immediately placed in his chair, the tragedy was brought to him from his li brary, and I went through all the scenes, in which he frequently interrupted me, to instruct me in the true spirit of the author, and in the proper mode of delivery."

DESCRIPTION OF BOULOGNE.

WITH A PLATE.

BOULOGNE, anciently called Gesoriacum, or Gisoriacum, and

since Bononia, is a sea-port, situated at the mouth of the little river Lianne, in the department of the Straits of Calais, 130 miles N. of Paris, and 14 miles S. of Calais. The harbour is extremely incommodious, and the entrance uncommonly narrow and difficult, so that merchantmen can only enter it at time of flood. St. John's road, in front of the town, is also very bad. no vessels being capa ble of weathering the point, unless the wind blows from some point between the north and south-west. With all other winds the sea is very violent and stormy. The mole prevents the harbour from being choaked up with sand. The fort, which defends the entrance of the harbour, is built upon the scite of an ancient tower, long known by the name La Tour d'Odre, and generally supposed to have been erected for a light-house by Julius Caesar, when he visited Boulogne from the British shore.

The city stands partly upon a hill, and is divided into the upper and lower town. The former contains the citadel, cathedral, some public squares, with several handsome private buildings and wellconstructed fountains; and is the residence of the principal families. The latter is surrounded with a single wall, and consists of three large streets, one of which leads to the upper town, and the others run in a line along the side of the river. It is larger and more considerable in point of trade than the other.

Boulogne

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