The Sun.
London, England, 1838-05-03 00:00:00

to Lye us.]

'Tis nobly done:
No doubt that it again shall clasp thy brow,
And the plume wave in victory. Thy sword ?
Forgive me : I must filch it for awhile :
Hide it--0 deem it so in idle sport,
And keep thy chidings, till I give it back
Again to smite and spare.
THOAS.
To generous youth
Permit my depth of sorrow to be cairn,
Unruffled by vain hope. (Takes off his sword.)
Farewe, ol
Thou w ert the bright inheritance whichll grac' d sword,d
illy finished years of boyhood—all that time
And fortune spar'd of those from whom I drew
The thirst of greatness. In how proud an hour
Did I first clasp thee with untrembling hand,
Fit thee, with fond exactness, to my side,
And in the quaint adornments of thy sheath
Guess deeds of valour, acted in old time
By some forgotten chief, whose generous blood
r felt within my swelling veins 1 Farewell!
The second is a conversation that takes place between
a Greek conqueror and his captive, where one is en-
deavouring to console the other, though in a style, howeveri
gracefully worded, yet surely inappropriate, seeing that it s
Made up of mere vague description :
Lvc us.--(Advaneing.)--The time is spent
Beyond the king's allowance : I must lead
The captive to the court, where he may meet
His fellows, find his station, and put on
The habit he must wear.

TIIOAS.—Do I hear rightly?
Must an Athenian warrior's free-born limbs
13e clad in withering symbols of the power
By which man marks his property in flesh,
Bones, sinews, feelings, lying Nature framed
For human? They shall rend me piecemeal first l
HyLLus—Thoas—friend—comrade,—recollect thy word,
Which now to break were worse disgrace than power
Can,,, fix upon thee, bids thee bear awhile
'1,1',11 idle shame. I shall be proud to walk
' ''"ener at thy side, while generous thoughts
• And arts of valour, which may make them deeds,
Enrich roY youth. Soon shall we VaPe the court,
Ply the small bark upon the summer sea,
Gay careless voyagers, who leave the shore
With all its vain distinctions, for a world
. pf.
dancing foam and light ; till eve invite
~.
So some tall cavern, where the sea-nymphs raise
eet melodies • there shalt thou play the prince,
And I will put thy slavish vestments on,
And yield thee duteous service ;—in our sport
Almost as potent as light Fortune is,
Who in her wildest freaks but shifts the robe
Of ,-ircumstance, and leaves the hearts it clotli'd
` Unehi2oged and free as ours.
There arzi places, however, in which description is most
ppropriate, and here it is in perfect keeping. Anything
truer—cliaster—or wore thoroughly imbued with the ele-
ated classic spirit, is Dot be found in English literature
han this sketch of Athens by an Athenian. It should be
,bserved also what a fine hutuanity is breathed into the
'assage, by the closing, allusion to the associations of home.
: TIIOAII.
From Athens ;
Her groves ; her halls; her temples ; nay, her streets
Have been my teachers. I had else been rude,For I was left an orphan, in the charge
Of an old citizen, who g-ave my
youth
Rough though kind nurture. Fatherless, I made
The city and her skies my home ; have watch'd
Her various aspects with a child's fond love ;
Hung in chill morning o'er the mountain's brow,
A,id, as the dawn broke slowly, seen her grow
Majestic from the darkness, till she fill'd
The sight and soul alike ; enjoy'd the storm
Which wrapt her in the mantle of its cloud,
While every flash that shivered it revealed
Some exquisite proportion ; pictur'd once
And ever to the gazer ; stood entranc'd
In rainy moonshine, as one side, uprose
A column'd shadow ponderous as the rock
'Which held the Titan groaning with the sense
Of Jove's injustice ; on the other, shapes
Of ch earn-like softness drew the fancy fk,r
Into the glistening air ; but most I felt
Her loveliness when summer evening tints
Gave to my lonely childhood sense of home.
.11 ere is another instance of the startling effects
Ttlhsie,
Fl".,l°fnurk' sometimes pouces by the simplest means.
nelson in italic rs
p produces by the simplest means. This
iflsrked in italics possess tremendous emphasis.
The Hall of Statues in the Palace.
TIIOAS.—Again I stand within thy awful hall;
1 found the entrance here, without the sense
Of vision ; for a foul and clinging mist,
Like the damp vapour of a long-closed vault,
..14 round me. Now its objects start to sight
With terrible distinctness I Crimson stains
Break sudden on the walls I The fretted roof
Grows living ! Let me hear a hun.an voice,
Or I shall play the madman I
Enter ISNIENi . richly dressed.

Of one
bid thee welcome, with the rapturous heart
°ne, for whom thy patriot arm hath wrought
Deliverance and revenge—but more for Athens
* for myself, I hail thee : Why (lost droop ?
Art thou oppressed with honors. as a weight
Thou wert Aot born to carry ? I will tell
That which will show thee native to thy load,
And will requit thee with a joy as great
As that thou bast conferred. Thy life was bid
heneath inglorious accident, till force
Of its strong current urged it forth to day.
To glisten and expand in Sun-light. Know
That it has issu'd from a fountain great
As is ite destiny—Thou bbarest with Inc
The blood of Theseus.
A father's feelings are simply and justly hinted at in tl:e
"'awing passage
If thou ;yea
A father,qhou, wouldst know a father's love

'Mid nature's weakness, for one failing sense
Still finds another sharpen'd to attend
Its•finest ministries. Unlike the pomps
That make the dregs of life more bitter, this
This can sweeten even a King'?.
There is more sustained energy in this passage than is usua
with the author :
IsmENE. Nov_ shall I clasp him---
Clasp him a victor o'er my country's foe?—
The slayer of him most hated. Double trap port !
The dream of great revenge I lived upon
Was never bright with image of such joy,
And now comes link'd with vengeance ! Thoas, haste

The character of a proud, lofty mind subdued to its
condition, and too magnanimous to complain, is well dt-
picted in the subjoined passage :
CsEoN—How does the proud Athenian bcar his part
In servile duty ?
LYCUS—I have never seen
So brave a patience. The severest toils
Look graceful i❑ him, from the facile skill
With which his strength subdues them. Few his words
By question drawn, yet gentle as a child's ;
And if,•in pauses of his work, his eye
Will glisten, and his bosom heave ; anon •
He starts as from a dream, submissive bows,
And plies his work again.

The following energetic burst is admirably suited to
Macready's fervid and impetuous declamation. It breathes
the spirit of true Greek patriotism, as it might have glowed
in the bosom of a Pericles.
Togas—Ruin to Athens ! who dares echo that ?
Who first repeats it dies. These limbs are arm'd
With vigour from the Gods that watch above
Their own immortal offspring. Do ye dream,
Because chance lends you one insulting hour,
That ye can quench the purest flame the Gods
Have lit from Heaven's own fire ?
HyLLus (trying to appease the gue3ts)—'Tis ecstasy—
Some phrenzy shakes him.
THOA !I—NO I call the Gods,
Who bend attentive from their azure thrones,
To witness to the truth of that which throbs
Within me now. 'Tis not a City crown'd
With olive and enriched with peerless lanes
Ye should dishonour, but an opening world
Diviner than the soul of man bath yet
Been gifted to imagine—truth serene,
Made visible in beauty, that shall glow
In everlasting freshness ; unapproached
By mortal passion ; pure amidst the blood
And dust of conquests ; never waxing old;
But on the stream of time, from age to age,
Casting bright images of heavenly youth
To nuke the world less mournful. I behold them
And ye, frail insects of a day, would quaff
" Ruin to Athens !"

The character of Ismene is distinctly developed in the
following passage, which is marked by all Mr. Talfourd's
peculiarities of diction :--
ISNISNE—(aIon-e) It is the heroic form
Which I have seen in watching, and in sleep
Frightfully broken, through the long, long, years
Which I have wasted here in chains, more sad
Than those which bind the death-devoted slave
To his last stony pillow. Fiery shapes,
That have glar'd in upon my bed to mock
My soul with hopes of vengence, keep your gaze
Fiz'd steadfast on me now !my hour is nigh ! [Exit.

There is exquisite purity of sentiment in this dialogue be-
tween Creusa and Thoas, and which is fortunately set off,
not encumbered, by the strain of poetry that pervades it—
CREUSA.-0 do not fling away thy noble life,
For it is rich in treasures of its own,
Which Fortune cannot touch, and visioned glories
Shall stream around its bondage.
TIIOAS..—I have dream'd
Indeed of greatness, lovely one, and felt
The very dream worth living for, while hope,
To make it real, surviv'd ; and I have lov'd
To image thought, the mirror of great deeds
Fed by the past to might which should impel
And vivify the future ; blending thus
The aims and triumphs of a hero's life.
But to cheat hopeless infamy with shows
Of nobleness, and filch a feeble joy
In the vain spasms of the slavish soul,
Were foulest treachery to the God within me.
No, lady, from the fissure of a rock,
Scath'd and alone, my brief existence gush'd
A passion'd torrent; let it not be lost
In miry sands, but having caught one gleam
Of loveliness to grace it, dash from earth
To darkness and to silence.
Of a similar refined and elevated character is the follow-
ing :
Enter Hmus, CREUSA meeting him.
Brother, join thy thanks
To mine. [llvuus and CREUSA Pnittiace.
TnoAs.—No more, [Retiring.
Grant, ye immortal gods,
So beautiful a bond be never broken! Exit TnoAs.
CREUSA.—IIe speaks of tasks. My brother, can'st endure
To see a hero who bath twice preserv'd
Thy life--upon nhose forehead virtue sits
Enthron'd in regal majesty—thus held
In vilest thraldom ?
HYLLUS.—Ah ! my sweet Creusa,
Thy words breathe more than gratitude.
CREUSA.—My brother,
I pray thee, do not look into my face.
HYLLUS.—Nay,raise thy head, and let thine eye meet mine ;
It reads no anger there. Thy love is pure
And -noble as thyself, and nobly plac'd ;
And one day shall be honor'd.
CREUSA.—Spare me !

We find we have somewhat trespassed on our usual
limits ; but as we have marked several more extracts, at
random, and are unwilling to reject them, we insert them
without comment, in the full conviction that their merit
will speak for itself. We roust not omit to notice,
however, the exquisite tenderness of 'llioas's address to
his mother :
HYLLUS.— One
I'm proud to claim my master in great war;
With whom contesting, I have tasted first
The joy which animates the glorious game
Where fiercest opposition of brave hearts
Makes them to feel their kindred;—one who spared me
To grace another fight,—the sudden smart
His sword inflicted, made me vainly rush
To grapple with bim ; from his fearful grasp
I sank to earth ; as I lay prone in dust,
The broad steel shiv'ring in my eyes, that strove
To keep their steady gaze, I met his glance,
Where pity triumph'd ; quickly he return'd
His falchion to its sheath, and with a hand
Frank and sustaining as a brother's palm,
Upraised me ;—while he whisper'd in mine ear,
" Thou halt dar'd well, young soldier,"—our hot troops
Environ'd him, and bore hirr,from the plain
Our army's noblest captive.

THOAS.-Had I been born to greatness, or achieved
My fame, methinks that I could smile at this ;
Taste a remember'd sweetness in the thought
Of pleasure snatch'd from fate ; or feed my soul
With the high prospect of serene renown
Beetling above this transitory shame
In distant years. But to be wither'd thus—
In the first budding of my fortune, doom'd
To bear the death of hope, and to outlive it
Gods, keeps me patient I I will to my task.

• • • • • •
CaEusa—Let me• have• leave. to thank him.
(Exeunt IPIIITUS and Lveust—enter THOAS.
Hero 1 accept a maiden's fervent thanks,
All that she has to offer for a life
Most precious to her.
TlMAS—Speak not of it, fair one 1
Life, in my estimate, 's too poor a boon
To merit thanks so rich.

CREusA--Not such a life
As his to me. We both together drew
Our earliest breath, and one unconscious crime
Shared ; for tha hour that yielded us to day
Snatch'd her who bore us. Thence attach'd we grew,
As if some portion of that mother's love
Each for the other cherish'd ; twin-born joys,
Hopes, fancies, and affections, each bath watched
In the clear mirror of the other's soul,
Illy that sweet union doubled. Thou hast sav'd
Two lives in saving Hyllus.

. . . . . . • ' •
CREVSA.—If thou wilt haste,
I'll tell thee when we meet
In safety,—if we ever meet again !
THOAS.—And dost thou wish it?
CREUSA.--DO I wish it? Yes !
And on the swift fulfillment of that wish
My life is wager'd.
Tuoass—There is more than life
To me in these sweet words—speak them again—
But no ;—once heard they linger on the ear
Which drank them in for ever. Shapeless rocks
That witness to the sound, rejoice ! No fane
Of alabaster while the breeze has slept
In circling myrtles, and the moon disclossel
Young love's first blush to the rapt eyes of him
who happy boldness rais'd it, rivals you
In sanctity which rich affection lends
To things of earthly mould. Methinks ye spring
Rounded to columns; your dark mists are curl'd
upwErag in heav'nly shapes, and breath perfume,
Which
Delicious
cveeryhto niche which waithouci. ,T
aught
wtheeru bliss
speeds
To dwell for ever here.
CREUSA—O linger not;
The watch will change at midnight.
Titol.s--Midnight, Jove
I cannot go.
p
CaltusA—Not go I ask no thanks.—
Noof
savingrecense_no boon—save the delight
thee ; for this I've peril'd
foife, free m,
fame—and now thou tell'st me, proud one,
o
That l;t4ye peril'd all in vain.

, •
ISMENE. 114 it• pass
single grief—a short and casual wrog—,

Which—in that sense of ages past and hopes
Replendent for the future, which are center'd
In the great thought of country, and make rich
The poorest citizen who feels a share
In her—is nothing.

IPHITUS—Ismene.
Speak : Dost thou know the slayer ?
ISMENE—Yes !
IPHITIIS—Dost thou—
Behold him now ?
ISMENE (looking wildly round)—l do not see the faces
Or know the names of all. Who is the man
That at the right side of the circle stands ?
lentrus—The youth with head erect and cloudless brow?
That is the orphan'd Hyllus.
ISMENE--Who is he
That sits upon the other side, apart,
With face averted ?
[Thoas turns his head suddenly, and loo',:s upon her, ]
I behold him now.
It is a dreadful duty you exact
From MC—a woman. If I speak the name,
What sentence follows?
INtirtTs—Death !
ISMENE— And soon performed ?
humus—The Fates require that he thou shalt denounce
As guilty, must bo, led in silence hence,
And none behold him after, save his slayers.
Attend once more ! Thou bast declared tl-At know'st
The guilty one !—I ask thee—is he here ?
ISMENE—O Gods ! He is.
Inures—Name him !
CALCHAS—She shudders ?—See—
IPMTUS—I think she cannot speak I
If quivering tongue
Rufuse its office, point the victim out.
[lsmEsE rises: —turns towards luoAs, who rises, and
confronts her; she trembles, pauses, and resumes he,
seat.]
Thou hast confess'd the guilty one is here :
Where stands he ?
[IaMENE rises:—points to HYLLUS shrieks " There!'
and falls back senseless in her chair.]
Tuoa.s—'Tis false! [CRFI:SA rushes
_forward And
embraces HYLLUS.]
CREUSA—Most false ! 0 murderess !
Protect him, noble Ttioas !

If thou remain,
And risk dishonour to our house and me,
The poisonous cave below shall be my
And shelter me far ever !
TIIOAS.— Thou art brave,
As fits a matron of heroic line;
Be great in penitence, and we shall meet
Absolv'd, where I may join my hand to thine,
And walk in duteous silence by thy side.
ISMENE.—And couldst thou love me, then ?
TIIOAS.— Love thee I My mother,
When thou didst speak that word, the gloom of years
Was parted—and I knew again the face
Which linger'd o'er my infancy—so pale,
So proud, so beautiful ! I kneel again,
A child, and plead to that unharden'd heart,
By all the long past hours of priceless love,
To let my gushing soul pass forth in gr tee,
And bless thee in its parting

We are aware that this is a very imperfect, sketchy
notice of a drama that deserves far mare attention than
we have bestowed on it, but we were anxious to lose no
time in giving our readers an idea of the many beauties,
both of thought and sentiment, in which it abounds. That
none but a scholar could have penned it, is evident from
indications that occur in every page ; among others, we may
mention the happy allusion to " the dusky wall of shields,'
which was suggested no doubt by a recollection of the bull-
hides alluded to by Homer in his sketch of Ajax, and
which a mere dabbler in classic lore would never have
dreamed of. And now, in conclusion, if we are asked the
question of, whether the play will be successful or not ?—un-
hesitatingly we answer, Yes ; and this to a very considerable
extent. True, it is pitched throughout in a lofty key—
and humanity is sustained at the highest point of mental
elevation throughout it—but our sympathies are kept in-
cessantly on the alert; for we feel that weare in the presence,
not of abstractions and mere poetic idealisms, but of real
flesh and blood. The love scenes are few, and the passion
is rather hinted at, than developed ; still it is genuine, and
will be appreciated. Of the plot and conduct of the story
we have forborne to speak, for it might be injurious to both
author and dramatist, prematurely to reveal too much. We
may say, however, that they are adroitly contrived and unra-
veled. The chief character, that of Thoas, will, of course, he
played by Macready,aml sure we are that i t will be one of his
most successful impersonations, for he has every requisite
for the task—taste—feeling—graceful scholarship—and a
perfect knowledge of his art. We ca❑ imagine with what
grace and propriety he will deliver this truly poetic passage :

He caught the floating reins,
And drew them into safety with a touch
So fine, that sight scare witness'd it. The prince

Is in his father's arms.

We conclude our notice by an extract from the author's
preface, in which he alludes feelingly, to the situation of
Mr. Macready as Manager of Covent-Garden. Such a
tribute of respect is as honourable to him on whom it is
bestowed, as on him who bestows it.

had obr tea thani
n
e dThe existence of the following scenes is entirely to be at.
tributed to the earnest desire which I felt, to assist, even in
the slightest degree, the endeavour which Mr. Macready has
cmade
e nt ht
seasd' witr t en uthe
oc ue
se
forof t haes
saocct
ieadt iDo
nr ami a . Mo
with the living influences of scenic
representation, in the in-
dulgence accorded to lon, I should have postponed all thought
of again venturing before the public, until years had brought
leistire, which might enable me to supply, by labour and by
care, what I knew to be wanting in the higher requisites of
tragic style. But I could not perceiie a gentleman, whose
friendship I had long enjoyed, forsaking the certain rewards of
his art, and the tranquil pleasures of domestic life, to engage
in the chivalrous endeavour to support a cause, which I bel;eve
to be that of humanity and of goodness, and which seemed
almost desperate, without a feverish anxiety to render hint as-
sistance, and perhaps a tendency to mistake the w ill for the
power: The position of the two great theatres—with a legal
monopoly, which has been frittered away piecemeal without
recompense, until nothing remains but the debts which were
contracted on the faith of its continuance, and the odium of
its name—opposed to a competition with numerous establish-
ments, dividing the dramatic talent and dissipating the dra-
matic interest of the town—rendered the determination of Mr.
Macready to risk his property, Isis time, and his energies in the
management of one of them a subject of an interest almost
painful. Impressed with this sentiment, at a time when it was
unforeseen that one of the most distinguished of our authors
would lend his aid—when no tragic creation of Knowles "cast
its shadow before," with its assurance of power and of beauty
—when the noble revivals of Lear and of Coriulan US were only
to be guessed at from those of _Hamlet and Macbeth--I deter-
mined to make an attempt, marked, I fear, with more zeal than
wisdom. Having submitted the outline of this drama to the
friend and artist most interested in the result, and having ri?-
ceived Isis encouragement to proceed, I devoted my little vaca-
tion of Christmas to its composition ;—and, with the excep-
tion of some alterations (for the suggestion of the principal of
which I am indebted to him), succeeded so far as to finish it
before the renewal of other (I can hardly say) severer labours.
Whether I may succeed in doing more than thus gratifying
my own feelings, and testifying their strength by the effort,
is, at this time, doubtful ;—but, in nu event, shall I regret
having made it.

GERMANY.

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