The Orchestra principally filled from that of the Theatre Royal, Dublin. Leader, Mr. Barton.
Written by Mr.G. P. Bushe, and Spoken by Mr. R. Power.
As some fond youth the fatal bark surveys, Which from his sight his once-lov'd fair conveys, With strain'd eye sees it less'ning to his view, And waves, with frequent hand, a last adieu; Still sad and slow he lingers on the shore, Nor heeds the rising surge, or tempest's roar. Thus, tho' well pleas'd to meet, yet heaves my heart, And dwells on that sad hour when we must part; When I, while no feign'd griefs my bosom swell, Take, for the twentieth time, my LAST farewel: Nay, 'pon my word my last-my last you'll find, Tho' much your smiles denote a doubting mind.
Have you not lately seen, thro' ether's range, A Comet flaring, and, with fear of change Perplexing monarchs?-Ah! that omen dire Foretold our buskin'd reign must soon expire. Should any ask---Why, in its noon-tide hour, Like Spanish Charles, I quit the sovereign power? "I will a tale unfold;" and, in my rage, Our Green-Room secrets publish on the stage. Know then, my Actors are grown restive all, Nor longer hearken to my sovereign call:
Some to strange lands a wandering spirit drives- Some take to business-some have taken wives!!! "My Thanes fly from me," and too soon Macbeth Must stand alone upon the blasted heath.
But late, my plaguy rogues, as if combin'd They had together a round robin sign'd, Wrote word, "This season their engagement ends." Shall I expose them ?-Tho' they are my friends, By Jove I will-
(Takes a packet of letters from his pocket.) Let's see-aye, here, in truth,
Comes a sweet sentimental line from Rothe.
"Dear POWER, You know my heart"-aye, still the pathos, "But this Excise Board"-Heavens ! what a bathos! And thus he quits, Oh! unambitious fool,
The Tragic sceptre, for the dipping rule. Yet shall his memory live ever here,
And still shall Beverley, Othello, Lear,
Reign in your hearts, while Feeling owes a tear.
Next comes a grave Epistle, post-mark Mallow.+ "The Senate calls"-Excuse most vague and shallow ! "The times are out of joint, and public men "Must do their best to set them right again,
"So farewel gew-gaw plays!-Your's, Wrizon Becher." Now all this comes because he's grown a speecher.
What! would the proud Coriolanus || shun
That spot where first your "voices sweet" he won! Tho' list'ning Senates hang on all he says,
He owes it all to our Kilkenny Plays!
What next?-a note in folio, signed J. Corry, Who says, "Indeed he is extremely sorry,
"But that the Linen Trade now comes so full in." Pshaw! hang his Linen, hav'n't we got the Woollen? If to my orders thus he prove refractory, Let him improve his system at the FACTORY; § There sports and toil th' alternate hours beguile, And man, poor labouring man, is taught to smile. And who, like CORRY, e'er from sorrow's eye, With sun-shine laughter every tear could dry? When this sad City mourn'd her favourite dead, And deem'd all Comedy with Lyster fled, When all around was gloom and sad dismay, CORRY burst forth and reillum'd the day.
Nay too, my youths, who dash'd thro' thin and thick, Annesley-Shee-Helsham-and any namesake Dick, Tho' now they shave, think Grey-beard parts unfit, And e'en Lord MONCK Swears he'll the harness quit.
But ah! sad tidings from the North-for there CRAMPTON writes word the State demands his care- I'm chain'd here by the leg-and made, in vain, "Herculean efforts my release to gain."
He by the leg?-Good Heavens, what chain could bind, That limb so supple-or that heart so kind?
But let Fate cast his part howe'er it can,
He'll always act the Irish Gentleman.
* Macbeth, a character in which Mr. Power was eminently successful.
+ Mr. Becher resides near, and represents Mallow, in the House of Commons.
|| One of Mr. Becher's most distinguished parts.
Mr. Corry is Secretary to the Board for improving the Linen Trade of Ireland.
Mr. Nowlan's celebrated Woollen Manufactory in the Co. of Kilkenny.
And can we venture thus to take the field,
Without SIR LUCIUS, thy protecting shield?- Did we not erst the Stage persist to tread, When wit and genius with our LANGRISHE fled? Then, tho' with thinning ranks, we forward come, And on your kind exhaustless smiles presume.
But lo! what bright star, wandering from her sphere, Shines on our orb, this parting hour to cheer? The fair O'NEIL dispels night's vapour dun,
"It is the East!-and Juliet is the Sun :" Arise fair Sun-and with auspicious ray, Shed thy kind lustre on our closing day,
So may thy beams, by no dark clouds o'ercast, Increase each year in splendour ne'er surpast.
Sir Lucius O'Trigger, a part which Mr. Crampton represented with great
Mr. Gyles. Lord Monck.
Mr. R. Helsham. Mr. E. Helsham. Mr. Annesley.
Written by Mr. H. A. Bushe, and spoken by Mr. R. Power.
Ten years entire Greece labour'd to destroy With her confederate hosts Imperial Troy :- We've kept the field till twice ten years have past, But the dispersing gale has blown at last. With ears attentive, all my words receive, 'Tis the last charge your Leader e'er shall give. Friends, you come arm'd I find, with valour great, To meet the summons and behold your fate; Nor do you feel appall'd at th' omens dire, Which to foretell your certain fall conspire. The day that Ilium flam'd, the billows bore Two snakes from Tenedos' resounding shore; And now, behold!-who can the sign withstand? The great constrictor in St. Patrick's land :
Shorn of their canvass wings, now vessels sail Thro' pathless seas, nor longer woo the gale. These, while the comets glare in Ether's range, Perplexing monarchs with a fear of change— All tell the hour draws near, and come it must, When our bright trophies shall be laid in dust, Or days of Phaeton once more return, When, chang'd to faggots, rivers, seas shall burn, And towers and palaces, all in the wind, Smoking, dissolve," nor leave a wreck behind.” The wav'ring traitor shall deceive no more, Let tyrants tremble, for their reign is o'er. You, Senators, shall feel th' o'erwhelming storm, And bow at last, to radical reform.
Haply some future traveller may say, Whilst in this town he makes a short delay, Pointing to where her court Thalia held,
"Here Richard pitch'd his tent of Bosworth Field: "Here youthful orators their strength would try, "Poise on the wing, ere yet they learn'd to fly; "And sprightly WALSTEIN, in her beauty's hey-day, "Played that most difficult of parts, the Lady. "Since FARREN bade adieu, ye critics tell, "Who---who perform'd the arduous task so well? "And STEPHENS pour'd her sweetest warblings here, "The seraph tones still vibrate on the ear. "And, ere she fill'd the highest niche of fame, "Our praise prophetic of her future name, "Here fair O'NEIL, with nature, feeling, charm'd, "And won the wisest, and the coldest warm'd; "And now, mature in honors, flings the light "Of setting radiance on our closing night."
You, too, our patrons, never sued in vain For kindness, critic censure to restrain,
You fann'd each hope and silenc'd every fear, And cheer'd with Beauty's smile, and still more flatt'ring
Oh! while this breath I draw, my grateful mind Shall cherish all these scenes have left behind; Full oft shall Fancy bring them to my view, And Memory, lingering, half their joys renew. So, when Death claims some victim for the tomb, And loveliness consigns to early doom, With mental eye the widow'd partner sees Her imag'd form-he hears her in the breeze, Entranc'd in fond regret, his feelings know A charm in grief, "a luxury in wo," And thrill with second rapture, wand'ring o'er All that had won, and all that pleas'd before. Such solace still remains, and just gives strength To utter what we must pronounce at length, While, to the utmost bound our bosoms swell, And quiv'ring lips scarce falter-" Friends, Farewell."
[The Leinster Journal, and the Moderator, Kilkenny.— FIRST NIGHT.- Monday, October 11th, 1819.]—It is our grateful duty to announce the opening of our classic Theatre this evening. The Comedy of THE Wonder, and the Afterpiece of RAISING THE WIND, were the entertainments of the night.
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