SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE SALEM THEATRE,
Feb. 4, 1828.

To call past ages from the sleep of time,
To rouse the dwellers of each voiceless clime,
And bid them stand as once on earth they stood,
To shake the guilty, and to charm the good ;-
To catch the wonders of the present hour,
New grace to Fiction give, to Truth new power,
With Mirth to cheer, with Grief to melt the soul,
And hold each passion in sublime control;-
For these the Drama rose in ancient days,
And taught her Bards undying strains to raise;
Bade them unlock the treasures of the mind,
And spread a new creation to mankind.

'T was glorious all! the Muses bless'd the hour,
And pour'd their sweetest songs in dome and bower.
But night at length 'came down'-the night of doom,
That wrapp'd earth's brightest realm in starless gloom.
Round Wisdom's haunts the raven shadows swept,
Art's lovely daughters veiled their heads, and wept;
From their cold groves the Drama's minstrels fled,
And dulness brooded o'er the living dead.
So tuneless ages roll'd-when, lo! once more
Redeeming Genius sought a happier shore.
Like Mercy's Dove for one green spot he flew,
Nor paus'd, till Ocean's Empress caught his view;
There his bold eye beheld the promis'd rest,
And Shakespeare's Albion woo'd him to her breast.
Then sang THE BARD! in greatness and in grace,
The Matchless One-th' anointed of his race.
At his command, once more the Drama rose,
To shield fair Virtue, and to shame her foes.
Time bow'd before him, Death resign'd his trust,
Kingdoms came back, and monarchs left the dust;
All, at his bidding, burst Oblivion's grave.
To warn, to win, to chasten, and to save.

Proud was the lyre beneath its master's hand,

And wrapt the listeners of our Father-land.

Soon from the Old the New World caught the strain, And hailed on Freedom's shores the Drama's reign:From spot to spot the inspiration flew,

And reared at last this vaulted Dome-for You!

For you, ye glad-eyed throngs, who cluster round,
Where a new home the Drama's sons have found,
For you, for you and yours our fane is dressed-
By you and yours, O may our rites be blessed!
Pure be the verse that lingers on each tongue,
Meet for the wise, the beauteous, and the young;
So parent love shall smile upon the place,
And gather here the fond ones of his race;
So all, in pleasure lapped, or lost in wo,
Shall gaze unfearing, and untainted go.

Come, then! to us, and to yourselves, be just,
And bid the Stage fulfil its glorious trust.
To this fair Temple as your feet ye turn,
Let no strange fire to shame its altar burn:
On you the cherub voice of Goodness calls,
Rise up her champions, and protect these walls!
So shall their echoes wake and warm each heart,
All ill subdue, and all that's good impart ;-
So shall they stand, to holy virtue dear,
Above all hatred, and above all fear.

THERE IS A VOICE.

There is a voice in the western breeze
When it floats o'er spring's young roses,
Or sighs among the blooming trees
When the spirit of love reposes—

It tells of the joys of the pure and young,
E'er they wander life's wildering paths among.
There is a voice in the summer gale,

Breathing 'mid regions of bloom

Or murmuring soft through the dewy vale,
In twilight's tender gloom-

It tells of hopes unblighted yet,

And of hours the heart can ne'er forget!

There is a voice in the autumn blast,

That wafts the falling leaf

When the glowing scene is fading fast, (For the hour of bloom is brief:)

It tells of life-its sure decay,

And of earthly splendors that pass away!
There is a voice in the wintry storm,
For the blasting spirit is there,
Breathing o'er every vernal charm,
O'er all that was bright and fair-

It tells of Death, or it moans around,
And the desert hall returns the sound.
But there's a voice-a 'small still voice,'
That comes when the storm is past;
It bids the sufferer's heart rejoice,
In the haven of peace at last-

It tells of joys beyond the grave,
Of Him who died a world to save.

TO A STREAM.

Streamlet, that flows by my father's cot,
Rememb'rest thou him of other years?

Hast thou all traces of me forgot?

Am I chang'd by the power of Time and tears?

AUGUSTA.

Thou'rt ever young, and thy rudy hair,
Is as green as it was in olden time;
But mine is whitened by rude despair,

And 'tis pale as the Andes snowy clime.
Dost thou now remember that sportive boy,
That stole from thy margin, bright wild flowers;
Wild as the wildest notes of joy,

Was his laugh in those long long pass'd hours.

*

*

*

*

Manhood has pass'd and age comes on,

And the lone one stands by thy pebbly stream, Chaunting a garrulous old man's song,

Of a life pass'd by like a sick man's dream.
Yea-on wilt thou run in gladness ever-
Thy course for ages can never close;
Will mine be like thine ?-never, oh never!
Then here's to one hour-a near repose.
A repose so deep that the thunder note,

Which wakens the mountain echoes sleep;
Or the sweet songs of music which round it float,
Cannot scare or charm me to wake and weep.
Streamlet flow on-to thy troubled sea,
And take on thy bosom this fading wreath,
Which I fling to thy babbling melody,
The image of life as it floats to death.

A LOGOGRIPH.

1. A fairy form, a footstep light,

A dimpled cheek, an eye so bright,
Teeth of pearl and raven hair

And swan-like neck, so stately fair;-
All, all of these will tell you who

Comes hither now to puzzle you;
And why not-when, as poets sing
I'm nothing but a puzzling thing?
But if, at such a bird's eye glance,

To find me out is hard, perchance,
My various parts be pleased to scan,
And then proclaim me—if you can!
2. Within my whole you'll surely see
A partner formed to comfort me,
But one alas! who oft has shown
A strange desire to be alone.
To pass this life from troubles free,
Unfettered by a thing like me.
But pass we on and leave the fool
The comfort of his selfish rule.

3. From me the word you may discover
That damps the joy of yonder lover;
A word though short, which often proves
A tough one to the man that loves.

4. And next from me you may derive
A word which marks each hour we live.
When all is hushed, and stilly night
Is sleeping 'neath the stars so bright,
And yonder maiden gently waking,

EUGENIO.

A-y.

Opens the lattice, whither breaking,
A soft, still voice is heard to say-
'When, love, say, when shall we away?'
Then-then am I a word most sweet,
Proclaiming that 't is time to meet!
5. And then o'er hill and dale while flying,
All danger's o'er, and hush'd all sighing,
Still in my whole there is contained
A word which means the prize is gained!
And so, when bravely home returning
The conqueror comes with vict'ry burning,
'How is the field?—I still afford

A noble, animating, word!

All these, and more, my name contains;
Solve this-and take me for your pains!

(A solution of the above is requested for our next.)

LOVE'S VICTIM.

I look'd upon her polish'd brow,
And on her beaming eye,

And said- is 't possible that thou,
So beautiful, must die?

Alas! I fear thou must-'tis thus,
Spring's sweetest blossoms perish!
And all those joys that bloom'd for us-
Those hopes we used to cherish,
Must sleep in the cold grave with thee,
To wake-but in Eternity!

She was the loveliest of Earth's flowers

Till chill'd by Sorrow's blast,

Till fell Consumption's withering powers,
O'er her young being past.

TI

ROMONT.

"With youthful fancy, or with matron taste,

'We cull the meadow, and explore the waste,'-Paine.
The brightest flowers, the purest gems to save,
From the dark bosom of oblivion's wave.

No. 7.

THE MONTGOMERYSHIRE GHOST.

'In winter nights sit by the fire with good old folks and let them tell these tales.' To a town not far from Llanfyllin, | weeds, the steps leading to the in Montgomeryshire, a supervisor doors moss-grown, several of the of excise, named Thomas, was or- windows being broken, and the dered some weeks back to occupy whole having an air of grandeur in the district of another supervisor, neglect, he was prompted to make who had been shifted to another inquiries; and an old man, to whom station, as is usual with the ser- he was referred as being the only vants of the excise department;-owner as long as any neighbor and having a wife and children, could remember, instantly offered he proceeded first, to select a to let him the mansion at the small suitable house for his family. rent of five pounds a year. The He had never been in Wales be- supervisor did not want so large a fore, and, consequently, he met house; but as he wished to send with many inconveniences. The for his family, and being obliged only house vacant, was a large old to put up with lodgings in a trimansion, which stood in decay at fling ale-house, he thought it was the foot of a mountain; and to this worth while to go over the old pile, the supervisor was directed, as the and ascertain whether a few rooms only habitable place that was not could not be fitted up comfortably occupied. On the first view of so for his accommodation, while in large a house, all notion of becom- the discharge of his duty there.ing a tenant was abandoned; but The lowness of the rent of course as the place had a mysterious cu-operated as an additional induceriosity about it, the mansion being ment; and having fixed upon four large, the garden being choked with or five rooms up stairs, he struck

VOL. I.

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