THE POETIC SAINT AND THE OPERA-SINGER.
THERE iS some singularly absurd person who addresses poetry to Madame MALIBRAN GARCIA in the Morning Chronicle. A few days ago he put forth a sonnet, containing a most whimsical and uncolah jumble of the yearnings of the flesh and the cant of the spirit. lie expressed his admiration to find that Madame MALIBRAN enacted Susanna and Zerlina without seeming the wanton ! and followed up his ecstacies with Some of the slang of the conventicle. The predicament of the poet seems indeed that of the saint in love with the operasinger ; and he delivers himself of his stiff awkward verses pretty much as LISTON in Mawworan would dance a hornpipe. In the Chronicle of Tuesday, he again made his appearance ; and there the delightfully absurd person declares, that he feels he "almost could sing" by force of MALIBRAN'S example, and actually he promises to try to
warble ! We cannot refuse our readers the exhibition of this especial foolery.
4' TO MALIBRAN GARCIA.
[THE DEPARTURE BY SEA, AND THE BIRTH OF INSPIRATION.] The waters spread before me, and I long To be way-faring 'midst thein—'tis my choice : My only pain that I must leave that voice Which has so oft entranc'd me with its song.
I shall not leave it—no, it goes with me i hear it echoing in my inmost heart ; From whence, I ween, it never shall depart, Till feeling, thought, and life together flee !
'Hs wrought into my being; and I feel As I were chang'd by its melodious Ow%
And almost were myself melodious grown—
almost could sing !—At least, I'll lisrning steal Behind the foliage of the Muses' bow'r, And try to form my ear, and modulate my tone. June 27.
The egregious goose! He mistakes his disposition to cackle for "the birth of inspiration."
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