The chasten'd spirit, and the flow
Of tears to summon from their fount,
Long seal'd perhaps but gushing now
As freshly 'neath the burning brow,
As limpid streamlet bursting out
From icy fetters, or the still

Glad murmuring of the mountain rill.
That strain, that magic strain doth call
Remembrance back, and to the eye
Of memory brings the forms of all,
Who in youth's hour of ecstasy
And wild enjoyment, shared with us
Our innocent pastime, who became
Our bosom confidants, and thus
Our fondest recollections claim.
Scenes of the buried past it calls
With vividness to view, and flings
A lustre o'er them which inthrals
The hearts, and to the fancy brings
Rich images of faded joys

And blanch'd anticipations—such
As crowd the mind when sorrow cloys
Its energies, and to the touch

Of grief alone the chords of life
Awaken.

*

It has faded now,

As gently as the curling snow
Which falleth on the mountain cliff,

Or as the airy mist that moves
Lightly across the sleeping lake,

And glides in softness o'er the groves,
Or 'mid the hills where fountains wake
Their first, faint murmuring.

I would recall it, but that tone
Hath a too fearful power to wring
The broken spirit; and alone
To bid the gush of burning tears,
Unworthy of my manlier years.

CLAIMS OF THE DRAMATIC PROFESSION.

BY MATTHEW CAREY.

1

Ir cannot be doubted or denied, that the illiberal prejudices against players, which many of us imbibed in our early days, retain over us an unreasonable and lasting influence. But surely, as we have emancipated ourselves from many other absurd and contemptible European prejudices, we ought to regard this subject more correctly. It requires but a very moderate exercise of the reasoning faculty, to see, that there is nothing necessarily disreputable or dishonourable in the profession of a player. Properly conducted, it is not only harmless, but laudable. Its objects are, by an exhibition of natural and probable events, to raise our abhorrence of vice and our love of virtue. That these objects are sometimes lost sight of, and that the tendency of many dramatic performances, is pernicious, cannot be questioned. But the poorest sciolist must know, that it is the extreme of absurdity to argue against the use, from the abuse of any thing whatever. To form a perfect player requires a rare combination of talents, which fall to the lot of so very few, that there are not many more first-rate players than first-rate poets, painters, or historians. This view of the subject should rescue the profession from the undeserved obloquy under which it has laboured.

The fate of those persons concerned in the theatre, whether managers or performers, is very far from envi

able, even when there is not an additional portion of bitterness infused into it by unfeeling spectators. A new piece, of intrinsic merit, is very frequently brought forward at a vast expense for new scenery, decorations, &c. Unfavourable weather, the caprice of fashion, the malice of critics, or other circumstances, will often destroy all chance of success. I have seen Mrs. Siddons, who was engaged, at an enormous salary, to play in Crowstreet theatre, Dublin, perform several nights successively, to empty pit and boxes, owing to political squabbles, which rendered it for a time unfashionable to appear at the theatre.

The remuneration which the greater part of the performers receive, is but moderate. Their dress and appearance must be genteel, and require considerable expense. They rarely accumulate wealth. Their application must be intense. Their time and talents are obsequiously devoted to promote the entertainment of the public, in those hours snatched from the fatigues and pressure of business. All these circumstances combined, entitle them to be treated with politeness and decency, until they forfeit their claim by misconduct. But when an audience makes no return for their best endeavours, but the most mortifying neglect, or even insult and abuse, all stimulus to arrive at excellence is destroyed, and the rational enjoyment which the theatre is so well calculated to afford, is by these means extremely diminished.

To no profession whatever is there less justice or impartiality observed than to players. A few of them, who have, by accident, or by the advantage of particular patronage, as often perhaps as by real talents, crept into public favor, are invariably welcomed on and ushered off the stage with re-echoing plaudits, and this in many instances, when they are deserving of reproach; while the

remainder, be their exertions, industry, or judiciousness of performance what they may, are treated with chilling neglect, or even grossly abused and hissed to furnish sport for a thoughtless or unfeeling audience.

When an actor performs his part characteristically and appropriately, he is entitled to approbation, whatever may be its grade. We may justly say with the poet,

"Act well your part, there all the honour lies."

In the same manner as we cannot expect the talents of a general from a common soldier, nor that the history of the latter can be as important as that of the former, it would be injustice to expect as much interest given to the character of a Tybalt, as to that of a Romeo ; or as much abilities displayed by those actors who generally perform the first, as by those who represent the second. But Tybalt may be so correctly and justly performed, as to merit praise, when Romeo may richly earn castigation.

The effort to excel, even when unattended with complete success, ought to be regarded with indulgence and lenity-Modest unassuming merit 'ought always to be taken under the protection of the generous. Many a timid performer, whose debut promised but little in his favour, has, by kindness and fostering encouragement, been elevated to a very high degree of respectability in his profession, to which he never would have attained, had he been treated with rudeness and severity. This has been remarkably the case with some of the brightest ornaments of the British stage. Nothing but incorrigible impudence, vanity, or gross neglect of the audience ought to experience the merciless severity which we sometimes see exercised in newspaper criticisms, and exhibited in the uproar too often witnessed in the theatre.