THE LESSON.

LOVE's alphabet, Rosa, I teach you in vain,
In vain, ev'ry letter I quote ;

For, believe me, too soon that's forgotten again,
Which is merely repeated by rote.

Why need I then talk about A, B, and C,

If you still remain D, E, F ;

For tho', Rosa, I'd freely expire for thee,
This really is wasting my breath.

That attentive you'll be, you have vow'd o'er and o'er,
Yet from you ev'ry vow is absurd;

Indeed you must promise to vow ill no more,
But consonant be to my word....

If you wish me your tutor-first, I you'll select,

And far beyond others esteem;

By day, you must constantly I recollect,
By night, 'tis of I you must dream.

The next letter is L, with which life is begun,
That 'tis ended so, Heaven forbid !

It begins too the word, which hath ladies undone,
And what e'en in a glove may be hid.

A magical circle's the next after this,
That is oft the expression of woe,

As well as the murmur of rapturous bliss-→→ M
And this circle of magic is 0.

Vand E close a word, the delight of mankind,
Without which Heaven's self would be gloom-

A word that's the flame, which gives light to the mind,

And which gives to the face all its bloom.

Yes, L-O-V-E, join'd together, make love,

And to that e'en our birth do we owe;

Nor had Mahomet Paradise e'er plac'd above,

Had he Houris like you met below.

Ah Rosa! I guess that my meaning you scan,
For your eyes tell me now you attend;

But altho' this fond lesson 'twas I that began,
It is U that must give it an end.

For Cupid had tried to ensnare me in vain,
And had conn'd half the alphabet thro';
But I laugh'd at his arrows, and felt not their pain,
Till the spell that he utter'd was U.

I love you! My teaching amounts but to this,
This is all that I wish to impart;

Reward then my lesson, dear girl, with a kiss,
And repeat it, as I do, by heart!

P. G.

SONNET

ON THE DEATH OF

WILLIAM ADAMSON.*

FAREWELL, dear partner of my youth! tho' low
And in a distant isle thine ashes lie,
Perchance thy sainted spirit hov'ring nigh,
Now views thy brother plung'd in deepest woe.→→→
I better could have borne thy hapless doom,
Had I been near to close thy languid eye,
To hear thy last request, thy parting sigh,
And place thy relics in a decent tomb.-
What tho' no monumental stone is laid,

Nor pomp funereal marks thy silent grave;
The rich luxuriance of the plantane's shade

Shall o'er the hallow'd spot its fragrance wave,
While mem'ry oft' her gloomy steps shall steer
To pay the tender tribute of a tear.

JOHN ADAMSON.

* Late an Ensign in his Majesty's 96th regiment, with a detachment of which he embarked for Christianstadt in the Island of St. Croix, where on the 19th Sept. shortly after his arrival he fell a sacrifice to the yellow fever, at the age of 20 years.,

MEMORANDA DRAMATICA.

1810.

THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.

Mar. 22. Henry IV. Part I.—Paul and Virginia, 24. Othello.-Tom Thumb.

26. Lear.*-Harlequin Pedlar.

27. Free Knights.-Irishman in London.

28. How to Teaze and how to Please.†-Quaker.

Mar.

* Mr. Kemble has played Lear several times this season, and it is a very fine performance. His style of playing that character at present makes it, we think, one of the best, if not the best, piece of acting in his power. He now gives it more decrepitude, and the solemu and cautious march of his pronunciation is in general consistent with the pride and dignity of old Lear, still every inch a king. In some parts, he was even deeply pathetic. Mr. C. Kemble's "Poor Tom" was, throughout the assumed derangement, distinguished by a great display of judicious spirit, and excellent attitude. He is never so good an actor as when mad or drunk.‡ A prettier Cordelia was never seen than Miss Bristowe, and, to do her justice, a worse was never heard. Mr. Kemble's eye must have been strangely deluded to suffer it so to impose upon his ear, as to induce him to think that such tones, if tones they can be called, were fit to express the anguish and feeling of Cordelia. Time and study may improve Miss Bristowe's qualities, but at present she bears the weight so kindly heaped upon her, with very feeble shoulders. Much as we have always detested the tragic taste of Tate, for sparing the life of Cordelia, we never felt it more insupportable than on this occasion.

† After a sort of " posey of a ring" for a prologue, Mr. Jones retired to make way for the introduction of the first comedy that has been brought out at the New Theatre. Of the two propositions of the title," How to teaze, and how to please," only one was made out-the former, as it respected what we saw of the plot, or felt as auditors. It was reported in the house, that the "native muse" on this occasion was Mr. DIBDIN; but never did we set our faces, against this gentle

man's

+ Cassio.
QQ-VOL, VII.*

man's trash with more energy than we do against this injustice to his merits. He is a far merrier fool-by fool we don't intend to cal him an ideot; but a much better Tumbler or Punch, though, as he himself would say, he is by no means so good as both together!

According to what we could understand of the fable, until each man said to his neighbour, "his utere mecum," hiss with me, it was something to this purpose.

The first scene discovers a very ancient dame, the Widow Mason (Mrs. Davenport) sitting in her second childhood chair, with her son, George, (Mr. Young) who is casting up his late father's accounts. The old dame then tells us that she means to pay twenty shillings in the pound, which if we had been creditors would have been very agreeable intelligence, and further something about suckling a child, which must have been so long ago, that we are quite astounded at her memory. George having made the balance, . informs his mother that after all is paid there will be twenty-three pounds left, with which, being, as it must appear, a very clever farmer, he means to continue to rent the farm held by his father, to keep the old dame, and to marry Fanny Marygold, an orphan, (Mrs. Gibbs, and another Cicely Homespun). Unluckily, just as every thing was going on so smoothly, and he saw his way so clearly, he receives an invitation to go with his Fanny to the seat of Mr. Buoyant (Mr. Jones). He goes, gets drunk, games, and so destroys all these flattering hopes of fortune. Pennyless and spiritless, he hits on this relief. Buoyant having a very amiable wife (Mrs. C. Kemble), he, of course, neglects her, and wants to seduce somebody else. He has seen Fanny, and, on George telling him of his ruin, offers to give him a draft for the sum, if he will sign a release of his mortgage on the affections of Fanny. No sooner said than done, and he returns home and pays the creditors—the creditors receive the money, but hearing of his situation, come instantly forward, and with true dramatic generosity and benevolence, cry out for their receipts to be returned, and will not touch a penny till George is married, and happy, and rich. Now there is very little more to say, although the main feature is yet to come. It is Sir Timothy Touchet and his lady, or a base Sir Peter and Lady Teazle, (Mr. Munden and Mrs. H. Johnston,) an old gentleman, and a young wife, who are living very happily together, till their acquaintance with Miss Screech (Mrs. Weston), who, ill-boding bird, teaches Lady Touchet to believe that all matrimonial comfort consists in teazing. Her ladyship

* From one of Miss Edgeworth's tales.

ladyship adopts this connubial course, and gets turned out of the house for her pains: but how the matter ended afterwards, we cannot undertake to say, as the hisses at the general dulness and stu pidity of the scenes during four acts, burst out into a storm in the fifth, all the people in the pit standing up, and crying of off. What was lost may, however, be easily guessed, as there can be little doubt that the married as well as the single were all happy in the end-beautiful imitation of human life! We shall merely add that Mr. Simmons (Buoyant's steward) like master like man, wants also to debauch Funny, and that Mr. Dexter (Mr. Liston) was the towncrier, and is a player, and the uncle of Lady Touchet, about whose origin Sir Timothy is strangely in the dark. Sir Timothy expects a barrister (Mr. Farley), from town, named luckily or unluckily, if you please, Dexter. The player, Dexter, comes first to ask a favour of Sir T. and is mistaken for the other-you see the rest. The equivoques in this scene are flat, when compared with a similar incident related in Lee Lewes's memoirs, (1) which is enough to kill any one with laughter. In fine, Mr. Dexter, the player, marries Miss Screech, but without producing any sort of merriment by his melancholy lot. They are made happy too.

The hissing began, as we think very unseasonably, in the first act, where Buoyant offers Fanny a bank note, on which she says that she must not take money. "Pooh!" he replies, "it's not moTM › ney, it's anly paper," which was (unintentionally we believe) the best and truest piece of satire in the whole piece. Many applauded, but the Bank clerks,* as they do every thing at this house, carried it hollow. It is a serious fact-Oh! happy country, that can live on paper, and whose wars are likely to leave you such an abundance

of rags!

It seems incredible that Mr. KEMBLE or any one could read this farrago of ill-drawn characters, unskilful exits, vile puns, poor language, and trite sentiments and sayings, unsupported by incidents or variety, and then think it a COMEDY worthy of a critical and enlightened people," "in the most beautiful theatre in the universe, erected for the reception of the inhabitants of the capital of the world!!!"

The talents of the actors were almost wholly buried in the piece.

(1) Vol. 1. p. 16.

Mr. Lees, O. P.

See Mem. Dram. Sept. 20.

* Oct. 24.

Mr.