Star.
London, England, 1814-10-04 00:00:00

THE MAID OF ORANSAY.

Let high Benledi rear its tap,
Crown'd with a diadem o' KlaW
Or, at its feet let bastes drap
Their diamonds in the leafy shaw:
Let storms o'er wild Benlomond blase,
And chill the lambs on glen and bye;
The storm Maws sweetly far away
Amang the braes of Oransay !

When tempests !ugh the fesamin4 waves.
And a around is wild and &war ;
And the wie Petterel trembling braves
The howling blast while death is near :
• A stranger will I be to fear,
1 hough Corryvekaas' round me play,
Eli drap the last, the lonliest tear,
For thee, sweet Maid of Oransay !

0, Granny's a lovely Me,
It is i Paradise to me;
for there the wildest beauties smile,
To warm the soul, or glad the we !
Pure ls the rapture yet to be,
When PeGGY gilds my darkening day,
And mony a bonny sun I'll see,
Glint o'er the bents of Grans:ay! .

The dark Atlantic wave may roar
Around my Isle, in noisy pride—
The mountain surge may sweep the shove,
And send its thunders far and wide I
But, when I'm nestled by the side
Of her wbom a' my thovirins obey,
IV smile at storms, and clasp my bride,
The lovely Maid of Oransay !
• A famous whirlpool not far from Oransay.

THEATRES.

COVENT. GARDIN.—The Play of Pizarro was last
pi& performed at this Theatre. On account of the
severe indisposition of Mr. Youso, the part of Rolla
was sustained by Mr. CONWAY—he went through the
character with considerable effect, and was deservedly
applauded. The new Drama followed, and seemed
to increase in favour by repetition. The Hope was
crowded is every part.
Dimity LANE.—The curiosity and iSterest excited
b 7 the appearance of Mr. KEAN, in Richard, last
night, brought as great an audience as ever attended
bis perfoimances last season. At an early hour the
avenues of the Theatre were crowded, and many,

after an anxious waiting, were obliged to abandon
their intention, from the impossibility of obtaining
room. At every door the mortifying notice was
stuck up of " Box," ,s Pit," or " Gallery full."—
The Theatre was now exhibited to its best advan-
tage, as all the private and proscenium boxes were
filled by fashionable company. So eager were the
public to greet their favourite, that prior to his ap-
pearance, upon opening the scene in which he first
comes forward, the cheering was general through the
House. When he made his appearance he was re-
ceived with the warmest plaudits ; hats and handker-
chiefs were waved in the Pit, and the Theatre rung
with the welcome with which he was honoured. We

have high satisfaction in say iag that he returns with
invigorated powers. The energy, the touches of na-
ture and feeling—the sudden explosion of the passions
as they arise—die just and strong marking which he
gives to sentiments, that, from all other actors, passed
without notice—the piercing language of his eye, and
of all his animated features—are heightened and im-
proved by the familiarity which he has acquired in
the character, and the confidence in his own powers,
which the suffrage of so many Theatres have neces-
sarily given him. The voice too is strengthened ;
we perceived none of that huskiness which at his first
outset looked like the symptom of diseased lungs.—
On the contrary, he was strong, clear, and audible,
except occasionally on the close of some few speeches,
where, if every person had not been acquainted with
the words, they would have been lost to the sense.—
Of this we are sure he must himself be aware, for
though the tone might be in itself properly adapted
to the sentiment, he ought to recollect that in a
Theatre so vast as Drury-lane, those nicer inflexions
of the voice, which would harrow up the heart in a
small house, are totally lost to a considerable part of
the company. This is one of the misfortunes ineident
to this and to every immense Theatre, and the actor
must submit to sacrifice something on the side of mo-
dulation and pathos, to the necessity of making him-
self understood. We must, declare, however, that
nothing within our recollection equals the felicity of
Vs occasional touches of art : they are electrical, and
they are as various as they are true : they spring Irom
the soul, and they reach it. We recognize their
justness by the impression which they make upon us ;
and even where the actor struggles against the defi-
ciencies of organic powers to the drawl with which he
sometimes dwells on a word, be gives an effect that
compensates for the fault of utterance. His repre-
sentations .re all living pictures, and have this great
property, that they illustrate the Poet, and present
the passios of the scene with such striking force as no
reading oldie play could communicate to the mind.
In most cases we come from the Theatre unsatisfied,
because the representation has not realized the images
which the mind had formed of SIIACESPZAItes plays
in the closet. We came from KEAN'S Richard with
a feeling that we had no perfect idea of the consum-
mate art, wickedness, and treachery of the character
till we saw those properties developed by his magical
sddreu. In this play, too, he is most powerfully se-
conded. Mr. Pore, in Xing Henry, was truly digni-
i d and pathetic. Mrs. Gwyn, in the Queen, does
• sot lie under the imputation of ever suffering herself
to be unintelligible. it eanot be said of her as of
Kates, that the lag end of any sentence is lost. But
though we should commend a little more moderation
in her fury, yet she is truly impressive. Miss Boxes,
in Lady Anne, was extremely chaste and pathetic.—
The scenery, too, is admirable, from its correctness
and beauty. The street, in the second Act, is a most
faithul representation of some ancient remains in the
City of Westminster, and does great credit to the
artist, Mr. CAPON, whose research it: this branch of
his profession is unrivalled. Several other of the
scenes, both by him and Mr. GREENWOOD, are very
fine specimens—and do honour to the state of the
art at this day. The play thus brought out, will, no
()waist, have as great a rum as it bad last season.
•