The
delight with which I dwell upon them is a species of egotism; I will
therefore only name a few more, and "leave him alone with his
glory."--"Sally in our Alley," the song Addison was so fond of; what an
_association!_ "Post Captain," "Brown Jug." In his decline, even "His
father he lost," and "On Lethe's banks," in Artaxerxes;--hear the
singers of the present day sing these songs! "Bay of Biscay," "When
Vulcan forged," the second of "All's Well," "Bet, sweet blossom," "Will
Watch," "Last Whistle," &c. &c. Alas! alas! and all this over! He has
piped his last whistle, and poor Charles "sleeps in peace with the
dead!"
In concluding, I cannot but observe, that no singer has so completely
identifies himself with particular songs. Those in which he most
excelled, he stamped as his own--no one can touch them "while his memory
be green."
When the race who heard him has faded away, some one may attempt them;
but I should as soon think of going to see Mr. Kean play Coriolanus, as
to hear another sing "Black-eyed Susan." My mind is filled--I have
Kemble's noble patrician _perfect_ before me; I have Gay's ballad in
Incledon's notes as fully in "my mind's _ear_," and I would not have
them displaced.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63