T 



182C.2 Milinan's Anne Bulei/n. 513 



and to turn it to the highest objects of public feeling .and general improvement 

 what could be more effectual than to have tiie authorship of the stage still more 

 extensively in the hiinds of gentlemen, who, iVoni both jiersonal accomplish- 



tinent and professional feclin^is, would be alike able to produce the most impres- 

 sive performances, and pled|;cd to respect the interests of public morality! 

 We have no possible doubt, that if Mr. Milman, for instance, were to write 

 B play every year of his life, he never would introduce a syllable degrading to 

 ||is character. We are fully convinced that his morality would be pure, and^his 

 general power of influencing the public mind would be exerted in the most 

 unimpeachable manner. We are not less convinced, that no good which he 

 may produce in any other form of writing, would bear any conceivable com- 

 parison with the extent, the importance, and the direct impressiveness, which 

 might be produiKid by his theatrical writing. Let him lock to this, and neither 

 waste hii time in fabricating wearisome rclii^ioiis dramatic poems, nor deprecate 

 with such useless alarm the possibility of his being convicted of having written 

 them for the stage. 



Until theatres can be extinguished, they must be a most powerful, popular 

 instrument, for good or evil. But no man expects to see their extinction. 

 The true wisdom then must be, tt) turn them from possible evil to practical good ; 

 and the one true mode of ertecting this, is the em|)loyment of the highest, 

 purest, and most accomplished class of writers that can be found. No matter 

 in what profession they are to be looked for — no profession can be so exalted 

 as to be above doing this eminent service to the counnunity. 



The present poem opens with a dialogue between Mark' Smcalon, one of the 

 attendants of the Chapel Ro^al, and his sister Magdalene, a nun. She dreads 

 the influence of the court, and particularly of the (^ueen, on her brother's faith ; 

 and thus bids him be on his guai'd. 



In that loose court, they say, each hard observance, 



Fast, penance, all the rites of holy Cinirch, 

 Are scoffed ; the dainty limbs are all too proud 

 T' endure the chastening' sackcloth. Sin is still 

 Contagious. Like hi-rself are those that wait 

 On that heretical and wicked Queen. 



Smeaton, however, who has already something more than respect for the 

 handsome Queen, vindicates her, 



Mark. 

 " The wicked queen !'' Oh sister, dearest sister. 

 For the first time I'd see thy pure cheek hum 

 Witli penitent tears ; go knee), and ask Heaven's rardoti ; 

 Scourge thy misjudging heart — the wicked queen i 

 Heaven's living miracle of all its graces ! 

 There's not a breathing being in her presence 

 But watches the least motion of a look, 

 Th' tnnittered intimation of desire! 

 And lives upon the hope of doing service ; 

 That done, is like the joy blest aiigels feel 

 In niinist'ring to pray'rs of holiest saints. 

 Authority she wears as 'twere her birtlu-ight, 

 And wlien our rooted knees would grow to earth 

 In adoration, reassuring g-aiety 

 IMakes the soul smile at its own fears. (P. 10. ) 



We douljt alike the historic truth and the poetic merit of this passage. 

 The unfortunate chorister makes but a tedious panegyrist. 



The most active character of the piece is (by but an humble compliment to 

 the dramatic value of the history) an imaginary one — Angelo, a Jesuit, whose 

 purpose is to reconvert the nation, through the fall of the Queen, the chief sup- 

 port of the reformed faith. His soliloquies furnish the best specimens of the 

 poetry, and occasionally contain passages of considerable vigour, though much 



M!M. Nexo Series.— ^o. 5. Vol. 1. 3 U 



