Northern Times.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1857-08-14 00:00:00

PROLOGUE.,

WEITTRN BY FREDERICK IK`CADE,
Bright laure's de?,orate the conqueror's crown,
And Victory loads the warrior with renown,
Whose noblest deods is murderous war are done,
Whose only conquests by the sword are won.
Bat these are heroes of a higher grade
Than ever bloodstained battle field bath made;
The champions of Truth who shed no blood,
Opposing evil, and protecting good.
Of men like JERROLD are such heroes made,3l
Of such the foes of justice are afraid;
And far more potent than a hundred swords,
'&iainst Foroe and Fraud was JERROLD'S whip of words.

Immortal honours gild the hero's name,
Whose genius wins a p.,aceful path to tame;
To n,bler triumphs Intelleet attains
Than ever fratricidal warrior gains;
And brig and beantiful their I,urels be
Who love a• d labour for humanity.
So DOUGLAS JER R OLD lov'd and laboned too,
And such bright honours to Ifs name are due.
Though of his mortal presence wo'ra bereft,
Yet at the sunshine of his soul is left,
The bright creations of his gifted mind,—
A rich inheritance, to all mankind.
The merry music of his sparkling wit
Is still vivid as wten first 'twas writ,
And still to living ut'erance may be brought
The deep r toas of all his earnest thought.
Still doth he cause the pityi, g tear to start,
Lind wake the warmest feelings of the heart,
And still in many a merry household throng
His writings linger like a dear old song.
Tonight, we strive to wild his magic power,
And with his fancies charm the passing hour :
In union with the great ones of the age,
The matter minds with whom, on many a page,
In sweet familiar converse we engage,—
'I he dear associates of his Lying hours,—
The kindred of his intellectual powers,—
We bring one flower unto CI, wroath of fame,
To garland rJund the memory of his name.
P R 0 1, 0 G U E .

WRITTEN BY EDWIN YOUNG.

Mourn, mourn ye Muses! Thalia bids you weep
A fav'rito son, sunk in the stilly sleep
0; tyrant Death,—to sleep, no more to wake,
Until Heaven's peals exhausted Nature shake;
Then. from the trammling charnel-house to rise, ;-
And summer in the maims cf Paradise
The lyre is broken,—chilly lies the hand
That swept its strings pith masterly ennmand,
And from the echoing chords di tit ed sweet sound
To soothe the aching heart and balm tho wound
OT trampled Fovea, ,—to plesd for Right,
Nor plead in vain aga nst odpressing
To draw the melting tear from Pity's eye,
Provoke the rnial laugh or steal tho sigh.
The hand that pointed Satire's quenchless dart,
To make its victim writhe beneath the smart,
That stung in every word, when on the page
It traced the " babble follies of the age,"
Or held to Ridicule's grim mocking smile,
Each cherished vice and conscience-flattering guile;
I, stilled. in sleep, to poise the shaft no more,
Nor paint its nature pictures a' of yore ;
No more to tune harmoniously the lay,
Breathing in every tons its poteat sway;;
No more to rule in love fond hearts at home ;
The D iy is past, tho Night of Rest is come :
Re,t, lasting resr,—all closes with the tomb!
Time's wonder-work ! Upon his sand we trace
The names of those that speed with us life's race ;
The billows of eternity swesp o'er,
And blot the supers.2ription from the shore. •
'lls not so bere,—no onward sweeping tide
Can banish his "Immortalised" world-wide!
Like as the rom from off the parent bough
Is plucked to deck a garlan i for the bro
Of beauty's daughters, and, ere comes the day,
The drooping bud proc aims its own decay;
No more to bask in sunbeams, sip bright rains,
The flowret dies,—ths fragrance still remains I
So with the Poet: Death, with vengeful power,
Will stay the sap of 11th and crush the flower,
Yet leave behind the fragrance of a name
Deep wnt in all men's hearts,—meet tablets of its fame.

Ea eland would pay a tribute to her son,
Who strova so well, so well hls Nuels won ;
And raise upon the turf that wraps his earth,
Some !Wing monument to JERROLD.S worth.
The cause is national I To-night our stage
Shall wear the frolic fancies of his page,
rr... wt. a omile from all, while yet the tsar
Stands wet upon the cheek to grace the post's bier.

MAD\ME RISTORI. „
Madame Ristori will play "Lady Macbeth ol
evening. The only alteration in the tragedy, beh-00
translation, is the omission of all the witch scenes e'D
of
the first, and 'of all the parts relating to the apprOSCieity
Burnamwood coming to Dunsinane, and the other ove
sions by which " Macbeth" is led to his destrnction;, aaa
murder of, " Banquo," and " Lady Macdulf 106418
children is cut out of the action, and some of the dia'. 51,
has been shortened, but all that is given is a fair tragae
tion of Shakespeare's tragedy ; and we hear that Ala ft/6
Ristori gives an entirely n,!‘v but very tine reading 0
part she undertakes.