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Wild howl‘d the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renew'd her dismal song; Around the spot where erst he felt the wound, Red William’s spectre wallt'd his midnight round. When o'er the swamp he cast his blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook The bittern’s sullen shout the sedges shook; The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam, Now gave and now withheld her doubtful beam; The old oak stoop’d his arms, then flung them high, Bellowing and groaning to the troubled sky—— '1' was then, that, eouch’d amid the brushwood sere In Malwood-walk, young Mansell watclfd the deer: The fattest buck received his deadly shotThe watchful keeper heard, and sought the spot. Stout were their hearts, and stubborn was their strife, O'erpower'd at length the outlaw drew his knife! Next morn a corpse was found upon the fell— The rest his waking agony may tell 1
‘T is at such a tide and h_our,
’Lone on the outskirts of the host,
Wheel the wild dance,
PLAIN, as her native dignity of mind,
Arise the tomb of her we have resign'd:
The kindness, wit, and sense, we loved so well!
By which thine urn, EUPHEMIA, claims the tear! Yet, taught, by thy meek sufferanee, to assume Patience in anguish, hope beyond the tomb, Resign'd, though sad, this votive verse shall flow, And brief, alas! as thy brief span below.
As the worn war-horse, at the trumpets sound,
And longs to rush on the embattled lines,
So I, your plaudits ringing on mine car,
Can scarce sustain to think our parting near;
To think my scenic hour for ever past,
And that those valued plaudits are my last.
And all the wrongs of age remain subdued
Ah no ! the taper, wearing to its close,
Oft for a space in fitful lustre glows;
But all too soon the transient gleam is past,
It cannot be renew'd, and will not last:
Even duly, zeal, and gratitude, can wage
But short-lived conflict with the frosts of age.
To drain the dregs of your endurance dry,
And take, as alms, the praise I once could buy,
u Is this the man who once could please our sires!»
I may adjust my mantle ere I fall :
My life's brief act in public service flown,
The last, the closing scene, must be my own.
Here, then, adieu! while yet some well-graced parts
May fix an ancient favourite in your hearts,
Not quite to be forgotten, even when
You look on better actors, younger men :
And if your bosom: own this kindly debt
Of old remembrance, how shall mine forget
O, how forget!-how oft I hither came,
In anxious hope, how oft return'd with fame!
How oft around your circle this weak hand
Has waved immortal Shakspeare’s magic wand,
Till the full burst of inspiration came,
And I have felt, and you have fann’d the flame!
By memory treasured, while her reign endures,
Those hours mustlive—and all their charms are yours.
0 favour'd land! renown'd for arts and arms,
But my last part is play'd, my knell is rung,
ls—Friends and Patrons, bail, and rum YOU want!
EPILOGUE TO THE APPEAL,
SPOKEN BY MR5 B. SIDDONS.
A c.t'r of yore (or else old Esop lied)
\Vas changed into a fair and blooming bride,
But spied a mouse upon her marriage day,
Forgot her spouse and seized upon her prey;
Even thus my bridegroom lawyer, as you saw,
Threw off poor me and pounced upon papa.
His neck from llymen's mystic knot made loose,
He twisted round my sire's the literal noose.
Such are the fruits of our dramatic labour,
Since the New Jail became our next-door neighbour.‘
Yes, times are changed, for in your fathers’ age The lawyers were the patrons of the stage ; However high advanced by future fate, There stands the bench (points to the Pit) that first received their weight. The future legal sage, 't was ours to see, Doom though unwigg’d, and plead without a fee.
But now astounding each poor mimic elf,
But soft! who lives at Rome the pope must flatter,
We hold you court and couusel,judge and jury.
I It ll necessary to mention, that the allusions in this piece are all local, and addressed only to the Edinburgh audience. The new prison of the city, on the Gallon Btll, are not for front the Theatre.
' At this time the public of Edinburgh In much agitated by an lawsuit betwixt the magistrates and many of theinhnbitantu of the city, consuming the range of new buildings on the western side of the North Bridge; which the latter iniltted should be remored as ll deformity.
, much exhausted, caused herself to be carried to the
Tans is a tradition in Tweeddale, that when Neidpath Castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the Earls of March, a mutual passion subsisted between a daughter of that noble family, and a son of the Laird of Tushielaw, in Ettrick Forest. As the alliance was thought unsuitable by her parents, the young man went abroad. During his absence, the lady fell into a consumption, and at length, as the only means of saving her life, her father consented that her lover should be recalled. On the day when he was expected to pass through Peebles, on the road to Tushielaw, the young lady, though
balcony of a house in Peebles, belonging to the family, that she might see him as he rode past. Her anxiety and eagerness gave such force to her organs, that she is said to have distinguished his horse's footsteps at an incredible distance. But Tushielaw, unprepared for the change in her appearance, and not expecting to see her in that place, rode on without recognizing her, or even slackening his pace. The lady was unable to support the shock, and, after a short struggle, died in the arms of her attendants. There is an instance similar to this traditional tale in Count Hamilton's Fleur d‘Epine.