Pandolfo Attonito! Or, Lord Galloway's poetical lamentation on the removal of the arm-chairs from the pit at the opera house! (Printed originally in the Morning Herald of May 1, 1800.) With a preface and some remarks by the editor [i.e. T. J. Mathias] |
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PANDOLFO ATTONITO!
OR, LORD GALLOWAY's POETICAL LAMENTATION ON THE REMOVAL OF THE ARM-CHAIRS FROM THE PIT AT THE OPERA HOUSE! IN THE YEAR 1800.
Aria di Pandolfo.
Voci profonde
Par che mi dicono,
Pape Satan!
Spirti domestici,
Erranti Lemuri
Che mi rispondono,
Certo faran.
Coro Zingaresco.
(Che canta nascosto)
Bergui, Gambagora,
Pape Satan!
Gli Zingari in Fiera, A. 1. Opera Classica.
March 19, 1800. A month or two ago, Lord Galloway came to the Opera, and on the Pit-door near the Orchestra being opened, he perceived, to his confusion and astonishment, that a long Bench was substituted in the place of the Row of Arm-Chairs at the bottom of the Pit, the principal or central of which he had filled for so many nights with discernment and dignity, and to the general satisfaction of every person present. His Lordship conceiving, rather hastily, that this measure was intended as a personal slight to himself, retired disconcerted, without taking his seat; and, as he is a votary of the Muses, penned the following Lamentation, which he sent to Lord Salisbury the next day, and recovered his wonted good humour, cheerfulness, and gayety.
Must I no more, with Cecil , share?—
Still be my soul serene:
Virtù, or Virtue's but a name,
Brutus and Galloway exclaim,
And sighing quit the scene.
And told my Critic Brother Bell
The fall of seats and stocks;
Yet fondly sooth'd by Bolla's airs,
Thought Taylor's bottom, and his Chairs
Secure with keys and locks.
Expell'd am I, who sung and spoke
As loud as at the Fair:
The Commons Addington have bound
Their Servant to the Chair.
Unzon'd Thalia could descry,
Who stepp'd beyond her place:
How oft I warn'd, in either House,
That charms too plain at last would rouse
The Mitre and the Mace!
When Mars on Venus shone so clear,
That Saturn felt the shock:
Grave Shute and Henry shrunk at Love,
And at the loose flesh-colour'd glove,
That blush'd at twelve o'clock.
At Hilligsberg's Morale lubrique,
And Parisot's costume!
Where shall Paullinia, tight and round,
In vest appropriate now be found,
With India's palm and plume?
Terpsichorè can pour no balm
O'er half his visual ray;
Nor William can console the Sage,
Trac'd the bold view in fabled land,
For Fawns and Wood-nymphs meet:
'Tis just, that they who dance should drink,
And they who sing, should eat.
In presence of the wise and great,
I sung the Sovereign's air:
Nor deem'd I then, (too well beguil'd)
How slippery was the Chair.
The last new Woman in the Place
With more contempt could blast;
Not Marlb'rough's damp on Blandford's purse
To me could prove a heavier curse;
My fame, my glory past.
Like the dark Peer on Storer's urn,
Reflecting on his Seat!
In vain that mean mysterious Sire
In embers would conceal the fire;
While Honour's pulse can beat.
With softest strain and tragic mien,
The Siddons in her art;
E'en Bolla shall forget to please,
With sparkling eye and playful ease,
And Didelot shall start.
And Gianni's verse and regal wit
The Consul loves to share:
Pye has the laurel and the sack,
And C---mbe the foolscoat on his back,
But Galloway, no Chair.
I sit confounded in the ranks,
Good Humour's still my own;
Still shall I breathe in rapt'rous trance,
“Eternal be the Song, the Dance,
The Opera, and the Throne!”
Mr. Bell, an ingenious Gentleman, very conversant in the Stocks and Funds, Grand Amateur, and Connoisseur of the Lower Bench.
Alluding to the fascinating Ballet of Paul et Virginie. Bacchus and Ariadne too are now constrained to appear in patch-work dresses. The Costume is lost, and the Graces mourn. Jacet semisepulta Venus. So says the D. of Q. and many others of the ton hold the same doctrine.
If Propertius were Ballet Master he would cast the parts of the Hillisberg toujours gaie et intèressante, of the Parisot au geste animé et sublime, and of the Laborie à sourire doux et enchanteur, with exquisite and appropriate taste.
Hæc hederas legat in thyrsos, Hæc carmina nervisAptet, et Illa manu texat utraque rosam!
“Corpo dotato di Sanitá.”
Gli Zingari in Fiera.
The Air of Midas in the Burletta, beginning thus: “I'm given to understand that you're all in a pother here, Disputing whether, &c.”
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