803 
POETRY. 
echo to the fenfe.” The foe coming gradually, getting 
nearer and nearer to the facred plate on the altar, excites 
in the reader’s mind an increasing anxiety. He forgets 
entirely the mine below; when 
So near they came, the neared ftretched 
To grafp the fpoil he almoft reached, 
When old Minotti’s hand 
Touch’d with a torch the train— 
’Tis fired. 
Spire, vaults, the fnrine, the fpoil, the flain, 
The turban’d viXors, the Chriftian band, 
All that of living or dead remain, 
Hurled on high with the (hivered fane 
In one wild roar expired ! 
Some occafional pieces in his other poems, and his 
fatire, had fhowed that Byron had a moft perfect command 
of the heroic manner. But in his 44 Corfair” and “Lara” 
he excelled all expectation. There is nothing in Pope 
fweeter, or in Dryden llronger, than the verfe of-thefe two 
poems; and yet it is perfectly new, and freer from faul.'s 
than either of thefe great poets. The ftory of thefe 
poems, for they are fo connected that they feemed one, is 
truly interelting. Very plain and fimple, it requires 
little effort of the memory to retain the bygone parts; 
the fcenes, the thoughts, and the aCtions, continually 
change, and continually go on. There are none of the 
long paufes which in the Bride of Abydos and the 
Giaour gave room for fo many beautiful reflections; and 
hence the conftruClion is more dramatic. For this 
reafon, perhaps, they have been more read and admired by 
the ladies than any of the author’s works, and will no 
doubt continue to receive this amiable popularity. It is 
faid by his friends, that Byron really intended the 
character of Lara to be a continuation of the Corfair. 
The internal evidence fcarcely bears out this interpre¬ 
tation. The ftories agree pretty well, but not the cha¬ 
racters ; for the Corfair has many of the bed feelings ; 
his humanity to the feraglio, his horror at the aflafli- 
nation of the Turk by Gulnare, are not at all compatible 
with the innately-had nature of Lara. But, after all, it 
may be (till one character, for Byron has more difcrepan- 
cies than this in his portraitures. 
In his dramas, Byron may be faid to have entirely failed. 
He would have defended himfelf from this cenfure, by 
alferting that his dramas were not meant for the ftage. 
But we hold it as a rule, that no drama is fit to read that 
is not in fome refpeCts fit for the ftage ; and that play 
which is mod fit for the latter is alfo moll entertaining in 
the clofet. 
That each character fliould be natural and confiftent, 
and the language concife and energetic, appear to us the 
effential requifites in a reading-play. AXion, multipli¬ 
city of character, and variety of incident, are alfo pleating, 
if not neceffary, adjuncts. We may allow “ Manfred” 
to poffel's the abfolute effentials of a reading-play. It is 
a monodrame. Manfred is the only perfon in it. The 
characters and many of the thoughts are faid to be deri¬ 
ved from the German ; but certainly the morbid and in- 
tenfe feelings of Manfred are quite in character with 
Byron’s former productions. The (hocking foundation of 
the ftory (the feduCtion of a fifter) is carefully kept out of 
view’, and is only to be guefied : t by the expreffions that 
fubfequently fall from Manfred. The metaphyfical feelings 
which fhone forth in Childe Harold, affume confiderabie 
ftrength and variety in Manfred; and the defcriptions of 
the various fpirits, and their language, are truly original, 
and difplay a ftrength of imagination paralleled only by 
fimilar creations of Shakefpeare.' The Spirit of Mont 
Blanc fo finely conftrafts with the Spirit of the Ocean, 
and that again with the Spirit of the Earthquake, that 
to write fit mufic for thefe three pieces' would be worthy 
of the firil of our compofers. indeed the whole would 
make a capital opera. 
In attempting to conftruX a more complicated drama, 
Byron was but partially fuccefsful. His “ Marino Fa'i- 
ero” cannot, on the whole, be confidered as a good tra¬ 
gedy. The character of Faliero is well drawn, and has 
many original traits, though it may he doubted whether 
a man fo cold, rational, and fublime in his demeanor, 
would have been prone to fuch fudden gulls of paflion 
as are defcribed. Angiolina is (to ule an ephemeral 
term) fomewhat of a blue; as an inflance of which, fee 
thatfpeech in which fhe, at the momentous period of her 
liufband’s condemnation, tells his judges many clafiical 
anecdotes; as that “a draft in the heel overthrew the 
braved of the brave “ a wife’s diflionour was the bane 
of Troy,” See. See. As another indance of the fame bear¬ 
ing, her Aspreme knowledge of the human frame, flie 
defcants phyflologically on his “ fiery fpirit and mortal 
frame;” the latter of which “ is nourifhed by a foul 
So quick and redlefs, that it would.confume 
Lefs hardy clay.” 
There is a deal of bad fade alfo in making this chn- 
■rf^aXer account to her friend for the reafon fire loves her 
hufband. We think, too, her contempt for Steno rather 
an indance of virtue on dilts; and the length with 
which (lie replies to his requed for pardon, by no means 
accords with the unmoved contempt (lie exprefies. Of 
more general faults we may remark, that the aXion of 
the piece is not very rapid, ami that the mod beautiful 
feries of reflexions on the night by Leoni, at the begin- 
ing of the fourth a£t, is quite out of place. Moreover 
the fcenes, indead of being worked to a climax, are 
often tamely prolonged after the more energetic ex- 
preflions are over. But the molt ferious objeXion is the 
very unnatural form of the dialogue. There is one place 
that is really laughable. The Duke is quedioning Ifrael 
whether, ifjudice were denied him, he would kill the 
perfon who had injured him. Ifrael replies finely, “ I am 
a man, my lord.” The Duke rejoins, “ Why fo is he who 
fmote you.” Now cam any thing be more abfurd than 
to fuppofe that the Duke could not underdand this plain 
intimation ? or can any one guefs what he had in his 
head when he made fo unmeaning a reply ? In faX its 
only ufe is to give Ifrael an opportunity of uttering an 
antithetical fentence. The above is a marked fample of 
a very general fault in Byron’s dramas. Another in 
this play is where Ifrael fays that the Duke mud not 
bring his nephew to the confpiracy ; he fays,” Not were he 
your fon.” The Duke burlts our, “ Wretch ! dared name 
my fon ! he died in arms,” See. This is pretty ridi¬ 
culous. 
The unities are very flriXIy attended to; and the au¬ 
thor expreffed that thefe rules were, in his eyes, very 
important. This is curious ; for, however neceffary they 
may be to an aXing play, they certainly cannot be necel- 
fary to a reading one, in which the imagination has to 
fupply every thing. 
Of the very numerous poetical beauties fcattered 
through this play, we have no room to fpeak in detail: our 
notices can only be general. The paffions of the Duke 
are fo well and forcibly depiXed by his language, that 
this charaXer redeems many of the other faults of the 
play; and, had Kean or Macready played it when the 
piece was brought on the dage, there is little doubt but 
it might have had a fuccefsful run : but, the fublime bor¬ 
dering nearly on the ridiculous, there can he nothing 
more fatal to a play than placing a very grand charaXer 
in the hands of mean or mediocre performers. The cha¬ 
raXer or Faliero js worthy of tlie bed of our aXors, and 
has many paffages capable of the molt animated dage-ef- 
feX. For inflance, what is more eleXrical than the Duke 
trampling on the ducal coronet, and exclaiming— 
Oh ! that the Saracen were in St Mark’s ; 
Thus would 1 do him homage ! 
Befides the foliloquies and refleXions of the Duke, the 
inltances of tranlcendent excellence in this tragedy are 
chiefly 
