Star. — 1811-02-02 (London, England)

LTC£I.7I4 TneATRE.—A new musical piece, entitled The Peasant Bog, was on Thursday night represented at this Theatre. The leading features of the plot were as follow :—An Italian Duke ( HOLLAND) goes to the wars ; his cousin (RAY/4mb) becomes anxious for the title and estates ; he attempts to woo the Duke's niece, but is rejected. Disappointed in love, he resolves on murder ; and as the Duke is about to return, at that precise period, he determines to murder him. A rencontre ensues, in which, after receiving a slight wound, Alberti is rescued by the sudden appearance of Lodovico (Loveamov a) who pursues the assassin, and wounds him in the right hand. The assassin, Montalvi, flies, and to escape the pursuit, which is close upon him, drops his cloak, mask, and dagger, at the door of a peasant's cottage. Julian, the peasant's son (Miss KELLY) comes out, and in the act of examining the cloak, is seized by the Duke's servants. He is thrown into prison, and, at length, brought to trial, when, at the moment of sentence, Lutkviro appears, and Nontalvi is convicted of the crime. Miss KELLY did all for the Peasant Boy that the most sanguine wishes of the Author could require. In the scene where she pleads her cause before the Tribunal, her feelings were excited to such a degree that she fainted away. The interest of the denouement was, for a moment, forgotten in the general and anxi. ous concern for the fate of the performer, who was carried off the stage. When the curtain dropped, as the audience continued their inquiries respecting her, Mr. LovEcmove came forward, and informed them that she was considerably recovered. Miss DUNCAN was encored in a song, which she accompanied on the harp. The following is a specimen of the Poetry—• :,A crown of fresh roses at sun-rise I wreath'4,l, All dropping wits silver-bright dew ;  Alt ! how soft and how sweet were the perfumes it breath'd, And how blushingly beauteous its hue ! Etultittg I wore k--the merry hours basted, And laughingly tripp'd away morn ; A storm came at noon—the red lightning-shaft blasted AU my roses, and left the bare thorn. range groves and bowers, To seek other flowers, But none find so fragrant or fair; My brow now Is torn By the sharp-pointed thorn, It reminds me—* ISOSE ONCE WAS TIMERS !  Love! Love! Love! Capricious God ! tyrannie Thy words are mad—thy looks are wild.... Who trusts thee most is most beguird--, 1 pry'thee fly from me! Love! Love! Level 'Forgive my spleen—forget my pmer I all my pettish oaths outwear, And sue thy fetter stiU to wear, More dear than liberty ! Love ! Love ! Love! Tiro' strong thy bow, and keen thy daft, Thou neer did'st leave the stricken heart, Without a balm to soothe its smart, Then pry'thee gay with me!    oLbtreEsTzlt nEcnoM  •  • Gloucester, Febrouy 1.  Notwithstanding this majority, the partisans of Mr. Durrow, calculating on the great numbers 'they have to bring up Irom the distant parts of the country, aid manj of them having been prevented from attending in consequence of the badness of the weather, entertain not the least doubt of taccess. •  1711krr DAv's Iyl t„ For Sir Williita Guise 014.140,4 ; tor Sir W. Guise 116 Mr, Dutton 1475  StsossoDmr‘ Pots.. For 'Milian Guise 67.5 Mr. :.r. Dutton ' 4321 Majorirt for Sir W. Guise ]4S