The National Register. — London, England, 1811-09-29 00:00:00

,~ --. HAYMA RKET THEATRE. • A whimsical Tarce from the pen of Mr. Tit eon° er Hooit, was produced pn Monday last. Its title is " Darkness risible," and as a light piece it is certainly entitled to much commen dation. it opens vrell, and from the business of the first scenes, something exquisitely laughable was expected to follow. Mr, Voox, however, seems to have rather slackened in the chase of humour, and the whimsical mistakes which occur in the early part of the piece, are discovered too soon. The climax is not properly supplied, and the interest in a great measure eva porates without that ludicrous explosion which the Audience are led to anticipate. I wAs disappointed to find he made so little use of that which in the first instance seemed to promise a.display •of extraordinary whim. The business, however, it is but fair to state, does not languish long. New game is quickly started, and followed to the end of the course with renovated .vigour. The last Scene is exceedingly well worked up, and • though extravagant, its extravagance is of that sort, that we have, from infancy, been accustomed to tolerate, to laugh at, • W!' even to commend in a Farce. • The dialogue is in many parts very poor, and the characters are little better. There is a heroine (Miss DE CA 34 e), who does nothingbut grin, and a talkative servant (Mr.JoN es), who has • thing to say. It contains many puns, which I cannot trace to Joe Miller, and several wkiels r can. 1 wonder Mr. H. can condescend to enliven his pieces with another's humour, when he has so much of his own. The jokes, however, arc generally fairly introduced, and not so awkwardly lugged in as in some of his pieces, and in general they produced the desired effect, having at least, the merit of being well timed. It was well played (with a few exceptions), received great applause, and has been repeated every evening since. COVENT-GARDEN. ' I- Mr. SINCLAIR has performed in The Duenna, and The Cabi net, in the course of the week, with increasing merit, anti com tuensurate success. STAi\ZAS: ,ASIONED DIT Tun DECEASE OT The late Rev. T. SPENCER, of LIVERPOOL. Like flowers of morning, lost in swift decay s How oft is man, untimely, snatch'd w.vay ; Ere dews of health the bloom delightful spread, Or fostering suns their ripening virtue shed; Alas! how soon the year of life is o'er, And man, precarious man, beheld no more! But, oh ! when Death with indiscriminate hand,. Bears the prospective blessing from the land, Must forfeit life, perpetual be deplor'd ? Ne'er shall the hopes of Eden be restor'd ? Nor Jesus yet, beyond the grave's control, See, and enjoy the travail of His suul ? Yes! there's a home, where, every trouble o'er, Joy ever vernal beautifies the shore ; Where peace and truth in holy concert reign, And man and paradise unite again! There glorious ecstasy the soul pervades, And springs the healing fruit that never fades; There Jesus, from his empyrean throne, Gives the bright laurel wreath, the golden crown, — Claims for His Church the mansions of the skies; And wakes a Seraph song that never—never dies f Great God ! and is such strength, such joy p . repar'd For those who love Thee, such a large reward.? Yes! 'twas to Thee he•gave his dubious breath. A birth-place found amongst the waves of Death, Claim'd an inheritance divinely blest, And wing'd his welcome flight to realms of richest rest! Fain would I trace his spirit to the shore Where rocks deceive, and wave* distress no more, — But fadeless joy dispels the forms of tear, Nor gratitude itself can shed a tear ! There Heav'n's deep plans in Heav'e's own light are known, And angel hallelujahs greet the throne, While raptur'd saints their songs congenial raise And concave thunder.; swell th' applause of praise! There, love superlative ! the race shall rise, Which pierc'd his heart, to fav'rites of the skies,—. And truth and pardon beautifully shine, The blended wreath of price and power divine ! Row late, methinks, I saw my Spencer wear, A smile of Heaven, and breathe this ardent pr ay'r " Great God of love, be Thou my strength and song,. My heart replenish, and instruct my tongue,— Guide me, amidst the complicated maze, Impart the counsel, and accept the praise! 0 make it oft my grateful lot to rove Tluo' the sweet pastures of Emanuel's love, — And there my soul,—my flock,—abundant feed, To streams profound of peaceful waters lead, — And in each heart let springs of glory rise, That wind thru' Death, and flow beyond the skies!" Ah! had the awful sire of Heaven's decrees Seen, as mortality's frail victim sees, — Then had my friend in Zion been carest, And long, the Church, in Spencer sweetly blest I New tribes had heard and hail'd the cheering sound, . More ample seals the faithful labour crown'd,— The voice of joy had mark'd the glad abode, Aud the world watch'd—and wept—and turn'd to God! But if, by harmony of hearts endear'd A life mature our happier friend had rear'd,— Would fondness, less tenacious, yield the prize, His - worth forego, and bid hint to the Wert F 6] 8, THE NATIONAI; 1 ittGIS . DRA :VATIC REGISTER. OCC LYCEUM. This theatre re-opened for the winter on Monday, having closed fir the summer on the preceding Thursday. The per formances were The Clandestine Marriage, and The Irishman in London. Stock pieces have been played all the week, and the public are gravely informed, " That the Proprietors of the minter licence have made such arrangements with the Pro prietors of the summer licence," (that is, Mr. SAMUEL A:- - T4OLD has made such arrangements with Mr. SAmuti. ARNoLD) that the last new opera M. P.; • or, The Blue Stocking, will shortly be performed. G. _ . MISCELLANIES. • --.1.-- A cruel hoax has been practised this week by some malignant female, calling herself Fitzgerald, on a number of poor Irish washerwomen, whom she has sent to Buckingham House, under the pretence of hiring them to assist in the Queen's laun dry, where they were to receive two guineas a week, others at 4s. a day, pot of porter a day, and as much rum, gin, and wine, as they chose. They have come from Whitechapel, the Bo rough, Wesminster, and various parts of London; and are principally Irish women ; some of them it will be nearly the ruin of, as they have left good places for the engagement ; some of thenr being servants, the terms being so advantageous; others have sent their children into the country to nurse, to enable them to take the place. It is to be hoped the author will be discovered, and brought to condign punishment. Lieutenant Cdlonel Cochrane has been brought to a Court Martial, at Gallegos, in Portugal, on a charge of having written certain letters to his superior officer, General A. Campbell, in conlistent with military discipline. The result of the trial is not known. • rrwrikoaroo•mt.qhsrar"