Princess's death, till last Tuesday, when I finished the season with Hamlet, and never played that character so well in all my life. But to return to our precious Rivine. How happy am I that I did not give you the copy till I had considered it with all my wits about me! It is a most interesting, original, noble performance; and whenever it is exhibited, will do the author great, very great ho

nour.

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If your fifth act (as a fifth act,) is equal to the rest, sublimi feries, &c. The construction of your fable is excellent; you leave the audience, at the end of every act, with a certain glow, and in the most eager expectation of knowing what is to follow. I drew the tears last night in great plenty from my wife, and a very intimate friend of ours, who is now with us at Hampstead. I read it with all my powers, and produced that effect which I would always wish to do in reading a work of genius, and more particularly a work of yours.

"I shall give the copy to Dr Blair to-morrow morning, for he and Dr Robertson do me the honour to breakfast with me. The literary world, notwithstanding our present unaccountable confusion, are in the highest expectation of Dr Robertson's Charles the Fifth.

"I will not descend from my present exaltation about you, to point out some little trifling objec tions I have here and there in your tragedy; they

are of very little consequence, and if just, can be altered in a morning. I find your friend Dr Blair knows of it, and though I have not yet opened my lips to him upon it, I will talk it over with him tomorrow, by ourselves. I have filled my paper, and my heart and mind are full about you. I shall ever love and esteem you, though I were never to see you again; for friendship never dies.'-Act 4 Scene 1.

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"Yours,

"Ever and most affectionately,
"D. GARRICK,

Pray let me have the fifth act soon, and a complete copy, that I may give it another reading. What are your designs about it? Pray tell me, and tell it me in a hand that does not gallop quite so fast as your imagination."

Mr Home's next succeeding performance was the tragedy of Alonzo, brought out at Drury-Lane in 1773. This tragedy, though written at a considerable distance of time, has more both of the style and story of Douglas, than any other of the poet's dramas, but both are much inferior to those of that excellent tragedy. There are a great many passages in Alonzo so closely resembling those of its sisterplay, that the author could hardly have ventured to set them down, if his memory had served him to

recal those which he had formerly written. Thus the young Alberto, the unacknowleged son of the heroine Ormisinda, begins the story of his life :

"Alberto is my name, I drew my breath
From Catalonia; in the mountains there
My father dwells, and for his own domains
Pays tribute to the Moor. He was a soldier.
Oft have I heard him of your battles speak,
Of Cavadonga's and Olalla's fields;
But ever since I can remember aught,
His chief employment and delight have been
To train me to the use and love of arms.

"Meanwhile, my bosom beat for nobler game;
I long'd in arms to meet the foes of Spain.
Oft I implored my father to permit me,

Before the truce was made, to join the host."

And the King's reply is nearly in the words of Lord Randolph to his young deliverer :—

"Thou art a prodigy, and fill'st my mind

With thoughts profound, and expectations high."

And in another place, the King, in words exactly like those of Lady Randolph, says,—

"Rise, Alberto,

To me no thanks are due; a greater king,
The King of Kings I deem, hath chosen thee
To be the champion of his law divine."

Ormisinda's admiration of her son, and compari

A

son of him with his father, are expressed exactly as Lady Randolph expresses the same feelings:

"Is he not like him? mark his coming forth-
Behold Alonzo in his daring son,

Full of the spirit of his warlike sire;

His birth unknown, he felt his princely mind,
Advanced undaunted on the edge of war,
And claimed the post of danger for his own."

And, in the next act,

" Then tell him of his son to wring his heart!
Truly describe the boy, how brave he was!
How beautiful!-How, from the cloud obscure
In which his careful mother had involved him,
He burst, the champion of his native land."

There is likewise, though the author had long ceased to exercise any of his clerical functions, the same imitation of the Bible.

"Oft," says the stripling Alberto, almost in the very words of David, when speaking of Goliah,—

"Oft have I kill'd

The wolf, the boar, and the wild mountain-bull,
For sport and pastime. Shall this Moorish dog
Resist me fighting in my country's cause?

And again,

"The God of Battles, whom Abdallah serves,
Has overthrown the infidel, whose trust

Was in his own right arm.”

VOL. I.

H

There is in many passages of this play the same animated poetry which is found in Douglas; but there are many more blemishes in the language to balance these. The following is an image of much grandeur, comparing to a sublime natural phenomenon the mysterious progress of the hero of the piece:

"I judge it is Alonzo.

Shrouded in anger, and in deep disdain,

Like some prime planet in eclipse he moves,
Gazed at and fear'd."

And in the next scene, the simile, illustrative of a mind uncertain of its future destiny, is natural and beautiful.

"But hope and fear alternate sway my soul,
Like light and shade upon a waving field,
Coursing each other, when the flying clouds
Now hide, and now reveal the sun of heaven."

It is difficult to conceive the same author, but a few pages after, writing such prosaic lines as the following:

"There never was,

Nor will there ever, while the world endures,
Be found a parallel to my distress."

"His eyes, his ears are shut. Oft have I sent

Letters that would have pierced a heart of stone."