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THE EMERALD.

ALCANZOR AND ZAIDA.

BY PERCY.

A Moorish tale,imitated from the Spanish.
SOFTLY blow the evening breezes,
Softly fall the dews of night;
Yonder walks the Moor Alcanzor,
Shunning every glare of light.
In yon palace lives fair Zaida,
Whom he loves with flame so pur
Loveliest she of Moorish ladies;
He a young and noble Moor.
Waiting for the appointed minute,
Oft he paces to and fro :
Stopping now, now moving forwards,
Sometimes quick, & sometimes slow.
Hope and fear alternate seize him,
Oft he sighs with heart-felt care.--
See, fond youth, to yonder window
Softly steps the timorous fair.
Lovely seems the moon's fair lustre

To the lost benighted swain,
When all silvery bright she rises,
Gilding mountain, grove, and plain.
Lovely seems the sun's full glory,

To the fainting seamen's eyes,"
When me horrid storm dispersing,
O' The wave his radiance flies:
But a thousand times more lovely

To her longing lover's sight
Steals half-seen the beauteous maiden
Thro' the glimmerings of the night.
Tip-toe stands the anxious lover,
Whispering forth a gentle sigh :
All keep thee, lovely lady;

Tell me, am I doom'd to die?
It is true, the dreadful story,
Which thy damsel tells my page,
That, seduc'd by sordid riches,
Thou wilt sell thy bloom to age?
An old lord from Antiquera

Thy stern father brings along ;
But canst thou, inconstant Zaida,
Thus consent my love to wrong?
It is true, now plainly tell me,

Nor thus trifle with my woes ; Hide then not from me the secret, Which the world so clearly knows. Deeply sigh'd the conscious maiden, While the pearly tears descend: Ah! my lord, too true the story;

Here our tender loves must end. Our fond friendship is discover'd,

Well are known our mutual vows; All my friends are full of fury,

Storms of passion shake the house.

Threats, reproaches,fears surround me;
My stern father breaks my heart;
Alla knows how dear it cost me,
Generous youth, from thee to part.
Ancient wounds of hostile fury

Long have rent our house and thine;
Why then did thy shining merit

Win this tender heart of mine?
Well thou know'st how dearI lov'd thee,
Spite of all thy hateful pride,
Tho' I fear'd my haughty father

Ne'er would let me be thy bride.
Well thou know'st what cruel chidings
Oft I've from my mother borne,
What I've suffer'd here to meet thee

Still at eve and early morn.

I no longer may resist them;

All, to force my hand combine;
And to-morrow to thy rival

This weak frame I must resign.
Yet think not thy faithful Zaida

Can survive so great a wrong;
Well my breaking heart assures me
Farewel then, my dear Alcanzor!
That my woes will not be long.

Farewel too my life with thee!
Take this scarf, a parting token;

When thou wear'st it think on me.
Soon, lov'd youth, some worthier maiden
Shall reward thy generous truth;
Sometimes tell her how thy Zaida
Died for thee in prime of youth.
-To him, all amaz'd, confounded,
Thus she did her woes impart :
Deep he sigh'd, then cried, O Zaida,
Do not, do not break my heart.
Canst thou think I thus will lose thee?

Canst thou hold my love so small?
No! a thousand times I'll perish -
My.curst rival too shall fall.
Canst thou, wilt thou,yield thus to them?
O break forth, and fly to me !
This fond heart shall bleed to save thee,
These fond arms shall shelter thee.
'T is in vain, in vain, Alcanzor,

Spies surround me, bars secure :
Scarce I steal this last dear moment,
While my damsel keeps the door.
Hark, I hear my father storming!
Hark, I hear my mother chide!
I must go farewell for ever!
Gracious Alla be thy guide!

Boston, Mass.) Published
BY BELCHER & ARMSTRONG,

No. 70, State Street

SEMPER

REFULGET.

No. 20.

Boston, Saturday, September 13, 1806.

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POETS have so frequently sung the praises of wine that men are almost inclined to disallow other worship than that of Bacchus, and confine their oblations to the juice of the grape. But if in the intervals of revelry, sober reason enter the mind, and reflexion call up the long train of evils which intemperance produces, we must rend the ivy chaplet from our brow, and exclaim in the language of Shakespeare, "O, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!"

St. Paul bids us "take a little wine for the stomach's sake;" the Wanderer warns his readers against taking too much, and reminds them that they are also commanded to "let their moderation be known unto all men." The same flower which is gem'd by the dew-drop would be crushed by the shower, or swept away by the torrent.

The effects of an abandonment to intemperance are too frequently exhibited to require other than a rapid enumeration. That it destroys a W

man's respectability in society we know by the cold distance we our selves maintain towards those, whom we might once esteem for virtue or for talents. Those talents also it destroys or at least bedims, as it diminishes the time for improving them, and contracts the sphere for of others it must also extinguish their display. With the friendship self-esteem, for if the ties of affection, though loosened, may not be dissevered, how galling must be to a soul from which sensibility is not totally obliterated, to receive acts of kindness and attention without the consciousness of deserving them. It causes the deterioration of health, ity, that it shortens the period of and it is not perhaps its worst quallife after having subverted its use

fulness.

in

confined to the immediate object, Unfortunately, its influence is not but operates by reaction through every ramification of affinity. on the destruction of those hopes, silent agony the mother ruminates which cheered the wearisome days and watchful nights, which attendcd the infancy of a darling son. Has this fascinating vice seized the husband? Who shall describe the sensations of a tender wife who contemplates the daily diminution of those virtues and accomplishments which first taught her bosom to beat with affection and drew from her lips the promise to love, honor, and obey? Ilas it seized the father? What shall insure that filial affection

which objects of veneration can alone itself in the domestic circle and inspire! what guard pliant virtue mildews every hope and every from the contagion, when pestilen-pleasure, which should there be tial example ever rages? When warmed and ripened, should nevthese malignant effects are obvi- er be forgiven. To destroy life ous, we may feelingly join in the is denominated murder, and the exclamation of our immortal bard, penalty is death. He who in"O, thou invisible spirit of wine, sidiously undermines the fabric of if thou has no name to be known domestic felicity, or poisons the by, let us call thee devil!" source whence the whole current of others' happiness proceeds, escapes with impunity. The memory of him who puts a period to his own existence, is branded suicide. Alas! that there should also be suicide of the mind.

When we seat ourselves at the festive board, and indulge in frequent libations to the health and happiness of our companions, insisting on the bumper pledge, it would be well to reflect whether we are not contributing to the des- These observations on Intemper, truction of both; whether we are ance, have been directed to my male not drawing others or involving readers only. I dare not notice its ourselves in a vortex which shall operation on the lovelier portion of sink us to perdition. The Wan-humanity. Let us rather shut our derer cannot deny that he loves a eyes against the disgustful evidence cheerful glass, but it is custom of feminine ignominy, let us steel "more honored in the breach than the observance" and not inclination which detains him by the bottle, till conviviality has degenerated into riot, and sparkling wit is exchanged for gross ribaldry. A high- ERRATA-In the last number of the go is not however unknown to me Wanderer. In the first column, first and when I have observed an in-page, for promoters read promoter-in the second column first page for toy genuous youth, whose pallid cheek read tax. and "lack-lustre eye" called aloud for forbearance, still compelled to swallow wine, which he could not relish and utter words, to which he could attach no meaning, I have

our bosoms against a conviction at which delicacy must shudder, sen, sibility dissolve in tears.

For the Emerald.

BIOGRAPHICAL.

X.

been ready to cry out with the milk- SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE, AND

son, Cassio "I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment."

OBSERVATIONS ON THE PERFORM-
ANCES OF MR. HENRY E. JOHNSTON,
OF COVENT GARDEN THEATRE.
CONTINUED.

The wild sallies of inebriety, which midnight revels occasion, THIS gentleman has a handsome might be pardoned did they not figure and expressive countenance, lead to more determined folly. The and though in both instances, when repentant blushes which follow he first appeared, he wanted subthe unfrequent slip, and the hag- stance for an universality of characgard look which seems to exclaim ter, he has since grown more stout " my head, my head," may appear and manly. His voice is unusually in mitigation. But that solitary flexible, and his tones various, soft, species of inebrity, which seats sweet, melting, strong, piercing,

THE EMERALD.

"Didst thou not HEAR "

full; capable of any depression or as of feature, in his counterfeit of any elevation. He had formerly the expiring agonies; and even the contracted an inexcusable fault of manner of his convulsive fall it is making the most abrupt transitions said were not forgotten by the But whether he "from his lowest note to the top of scottish hero. his compass," which he has now imitated or not in these instances, corrected. His action and deport- there were many intrinsic excelment are animated and graceful, lences for which he is entitled to and in both is thought to have imi- great credit. The phrase, tated Kemble. The characters which Mr. Johns- was given with a rapidity and force fon performs are various, as he in-not unmingled with contempt, and cludes those of tragedy, genteel a power of voice that electrified the comedy and pantomime. An in-house. The satisfaction which ilvestigation of some of his principal lumined his countenance as he parts, may afford us an estimate of pronounced the words in the last his worth. Douglass, the character act-But I slew him; the exquisite in which he first appeared in Lon-pathos with which he expressed his don, seems to have been well acted. filial apprehensions, Though in his deliniation he was thought to have been defective; as in the former scenes of the character he made him a simpleton.

"Was ever tale with such a GALLANT modesty rehearted,

is the observation of Lord Randolph at the conclusion of his narrative.

"He bore himself not as the offspring of our cottage blood."

says old Norval. These alone are sufficient to prove. Mr. Johnston mistook the author's intention. This fault, however, was attributed to him in 1797, and he probably has now corrected it. It is believed, that at this time too, he imitated Kemble in this character; but it is founded upon mere belief, as it could not be ascertained whether Mr. Johnston had then ever seen Kemble. The similarity was observable in this line,

"Did I not fear to freeze,"

and in the equivocation

"I'd tell thee.......what thou art."

"Something bids me stay and guard a mother's life,

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"What shall I say? How can I give you comfort? "The god of baules, of my life dispose "As may be best for you! for whose dear sake," &c. And above all the transition from himself to his mother at the end,

"But who shalt comfort thee?"

Constituted an assemblage of beauties which few actors can equal.

In Romeo, he was not so much admired as in Douglass. It does not suit so well his style of acting. His principal failure was in the love scenes, where he wanted ardor and passion. And in the interview with the friar after his banishment, there was a deficiency of energy. Mr. Johnston, mistook the author's intention in the lines

"I remember an Apothecary," &c.

which he delivered with as much pathos, as if it sensibly affected his feelings. Whereas the speech is merely discriptive. But even in Romeo he has now acquired celeb

In the whole address to Lord Ran-rity. dolph, and in many other speeches. On the Hamlet of Mr. Johnston, His manner of dying especially a critic remarks, that in point of inseemed to have been copied. The tellect, manly deportment, correct entire process which marks Kem-conception and various other qualble's theatrical dissolution; the aguish ities, which form the complete appearance; the convulsive mo- tragedian, it is so superior to his tions; the distortion of limb as well Douglas and other characters, that

he could not but wish he had made | But far different from these, are the choice of it for his debut in London. volumes which usually crowd the He perceived he had profited by the shelves of a circulating library, or acting of Kemble, but there was are seen tumbling on the sophas of besides merit of great and unques- a fashionable drawing-room. It is tionable originality. In the closet not the occasional perusal of the scene, and wherever the occasion best, but the habitual reading of the called for strong feeling and animat- worst, which it is the wish of every ed utterance, he appeared to most wise and good man to censure and advantage; but even the soliliquies, restrain. Not a few of these, inthe intercourse with the players, the stead of possessing that ease, perscolloquy with the grave-digger, &c. picuity, and elegance of style, he might challenge a competition which should seem essential to with ANY other actor, except Kem-lighter compositions, and works inble, that has been seen in the part. tended only for amusement, are so Selim, by Mr. Johnston, in Bar- defective in the common properties barossa, particularly in the patriotic of expression, and even the ordinascenes, was acted with great power ry rules of grammar, that they canand dignity: not fail to corrupt the language and deprave the taste of all who bestow their time and attention upon them. The authors of others seem ambitious, on every occasion, to introduce, not only foreign idioms and phraseology, and the inflated efflorescence of Gallic oratory, but such colloquial terms and sentences from French writers, as they would persuade us, convey their ideas with greater force or perspicuity, than any expression which our own defective language can supply. The

Other characters, in modern plays he performs admirably: He takes almost all the heroes in the comedies, melo-dramas, &c: of the present day, snd in them is much celebrated. On the whole, his pathos is inimitable, his figure manly and graceful, his countenance commanding and handsome, his voice capacious, his judgment correct, his action impressive; in short he posesses all the qualifications for a very great actor; and with the cultivation and assiduity which he bestows, will un-real motive of the writers is, probdoubtedly be a distinguished ornament to the stage:

DRAMATICUS.

ably, nothing more than the contemptible affectation of superior learning; but the practice has an obvious tendency to corrupt the purity and destroy the character of our English diction, and as far as it is in the power of novelists to effect it, to reduce us to babble a dialect of

From an Essay on Education, by Dr. Barrow, the following observations are extracted. We recommend them to the attentive perusal of novel-read-France. Some of these publicaing Masters and Misses.

THE READING OF NOVELS.

MANY works of this description, in our language, may be read with innocence and safety. The novels of Fielding, of Richardson, and of Radcliffe, no man of taste will peruse without pleasure, and no man of reflection without improvement.

tions betray such a laxity in their doctrines of morality, and exhibit such licentiousness of sentiment and description, as cannot fail to inflame the passions, which they ought to restrain, and to undermine the virtue, which they profess to support. Others are made the vehicle of principles, hostile to our civil

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