THE ROMAN FATHER.

MR. WHITEHEAD does not disguise his obligations to CORNEILLE; and there are who think it would have been better if they had been even yet more considerable.

But WHITEHEAD was wedded to classic models, and he thought the complexity of the French Intrigue would violate the unity of his subject. The tragedy of CORNEILLE has therefore the most business-yet its scenes are cold and declamatory, and WHITEHEAD, who saw this, could not keep the chill invasion from his own Scenes.

When HENDERSON, as it were shewing a lightning before death, threw into one exclamation in the character of HORATIUS, the true tragic tone of nature and passion, he reached the perfection of the artFor the opportunity he rather made it, than found it. When VALERIA demands.

What could he do, my lord, when three opposed him the Actor collected himself, and with an ⚫ energy of voice and action, that struck the heart like the thunderbolt, piercingly exclaimed, DIE

The tone vibrates still upon our ear, it was never surpassed, not even by the shriek of Mrs. CRAWFORD'S "Was he alive?" Both electrified.

PROLOGUE.

BRITONS, to-night, in native pomp we come,
True heroes all, from virtuous ancient Rome;
In those far distant times, when Romans knew
The sweets of guarded liberty, like you;

And, safe from ills which force or fallion brings,
Saw freedom reign beneath the smile of kings.

Yet from such times, and such plain chiefs as these,
What can we frame a polish'd age to please?
Say, can you listen to the artless woes

Of an old tale, which every school-boy knows?
Where to your hearts alone the scenes apply ;
No merit theirs but pure simplicity.

Our bard has play'd a most adventurous part,
And turn'd upon himself the critic's art:
Stripp'd each luxuriant plume from Fancy's wings,
And torn up similies from vulgar things:
Nay, ev'n each moral, sentimental stroke,
Where not the character but poet spoke,
He lopp'd as foreign to his chaste design;
Nor spar'd an useless, tho' a golden line.

These are his arts; if these cannot atone For all those nameless errors yet unknown,

If, shunning faults which nobler bards commit,
He wants the force to strike th' attentive pit,
Be just, and tell him so; he asks advice,
Willing to learn, and would not ask it twice.
Your kind applause may bid him write-beware!
Or kinder censure teach him to forbear.

B

THE ROMAN FATHER.

ACT I. SCENE 1.

A Room in HORATIUS'S House A Soldier crosses the Stage, HORATIA following.

Horatia.

STAY, soldier. As you parted from my father,
Something I overheard of near concern,

But all imperfectly. Said you not Alba

Was on the brink of fate, and Rome determin'd
This day to crush her haughty rival's power,
Or perish in th' attempt?

Sold. 'Twas so resolv'd

This morning, lady, ere I left the camp.

Our heroes are tir'd out with ling'ring war,

And half-unmeaning fight.

Horatia. "Alas! I hop'd

"The kind remorse which touch'd the kindred states, "And made their swords fall lightly on the breasts "Of foes they could not hate, might have produc'd "A milder resolution." Then this day