THEATRE ROYAL.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LIII, Issue 5918, 13 February 1880, Page 5

THEATRE ROYAL.

The entertainment at the Theatre Royal last night was for the benefit of the Irish Belief Fund. There was by no means a large audience in the dress circle, but several members of the Committee were in conspicuous positions there, notably his Worship the Mayor. Downstairs there was a pretty full attendance. The dramatic portion of the, programme was introduced by a prologue written for the occasion by Mr Ludford. This was impressively delivered, by Mr O. Hull, who was complimented by prot ound attention during its recital, and by enthusiastic applause at its close. Uho p-ologue was immediately followed by that cleverly written little comedy “ Tho Handsome Husband,” in which Mr and Mrs Hoskins, who gave their services, Miss Lucy Ashton, Miss Lizzie Lawrence, Mr R. W. Rede, and Mr F. Ashton enacted the dramatis persona with such success that the audience were delighted, and insisted upon recalling them at the fall of the curtain. Miss Lizzie Morgan, who alsoappeared gratuitously, then sang “ My dear little J essie,” a pleasing ballad of the style which she has for so long a time made her own. She was loudly encored, and in response to the encore kindly sang the favourite humorous song “Barney O’Hea.” To' this she gave considerable archness, and for her rendering was deservedly applauded. Mr O. Hull followed with a well selected recitation, entitled “True Charity,” to which he gave full effect. The evening’s amusement concluded with the decidedly burlesque extravaganza “La Sonnamhula, or, the Supper, the Sleeper, and the Merry Swiss Boy,” in which the characters were .sustained by Miss Ruth Grey, Miss Amy Johns, Miss Madge Herrick, Miss Maude Vincent, Mr J. Wilkinson, Mr Mack D. Alexander, Mr J. Stark, Mr J. Gorbee, and Mr J. P. Hydes. Tho burlesque is wellknown, and its performance by most of the artists named is.too familar to theatre-goers to require notice here. Below will be found the PEOT.OGHE. Hark! hark ! There conies from far a mournful sound ; Its.thrilling cadence strikes upon (he ear, And sends the blood resnrging to the heart. Wail upon wail is wafted to our shores ; - And, in the winds of heaven. Zealaudia hears A sister’s bitter anguish and despair. A nation starves ! a nation cries aloud For help, for succour in its dire distress. Erin, whose people never yet forgot To show the “ stranger come within their gates ” That royal hosphahty and care Which they, for ages past, have made their own; Erin, whose daughters all are passing fair. Whose stalwart sons.hy valour in the field. By daring deeds in many a deadly breach, Have shown the world how heroes do and die When duty’s call demands the sacrifice. And shall we, can we, sea this people starve. Or hear these honest toilers cr.v for bread. Whilst we our criminals—tho dross and dregs Of vile humanity—both clothe and feed, And nurture with a lavish, wasteful hand ? Shall want and death invade the people’s homes. Whilst sated Crime sits jeering at their woe ? Nay, Heaven forbid, that wo should so forget Our brotherhood, humanity, and name ! Though faults there be, yet now are they eclipsed ; For Ctmrity, whose snowy manilo falls With tender grace before our pit. ous gaza, B -soeohes, with bjdimmed and pleading eyes. That sins and errors now .-hould be forgot. So, through the dim, enshrouding mists of woe. Wo do but see a suffering people’s pain. There stands fell Famine, bleared, and lank and grim. Pointing with fleshlets finger to the work Of want, and death and horror she has done, A hungry, wolfish and malignant scowl Gleams from her eyes; while from her nottiils stream The vapours of the tomb. The hideous hag Stalks o’er the land, so fair and beautiful, Still seeking, with a fixed and glassy stare For victims to her vile, unholy greed. See! see! Her hand is now at Erin’s throat, As though a vengeful, black, and damned desire Were prompting her to do such deeds of blood. To work such horror, bring such deep despair. That Hell itself might shudder at the sight. See yonder mother. Mark her pallid lips, Her livid cheeks, her dull and sunken eyes. How ghastly, how unearthly; ah I how dread. Hush 1 Now she listens. ’Tis a childish voice. Grown faint with hunger, crying “ Mother! bread !” Oh, God ! The agony upon that face, As all the mother’s love and soul go forth In one convulsive shudder to her child. See ! how she clasps her darling to her breast. And tries to soothe it with a fond caress. She cannot find it iu her heart to tay “No bread—my babe—my darling—we must die.” Heaven help that man whose callous, stony heart, Bemains uuthrilled by such a som e as this. But now must these things cease, and we must show A sympathy as practical as just, And prove our zeal by deeds, not hollow werds. By prompt assistance to a generous rice, Whose chiefest siu is being but too poor. Ah, yes. The dawn of better days is near ; The cry is heard, and, in our heart of hearts, It finds an echo never to he stilled. And, when tho cloud of wretchedness shall lift. And once again reveal tho smiling face Of fair Prosperity, aye, then, indeed. Will Erin thank Zealaudia for her aid, And pour a thousand blessings on her head; The nation’s pulse will beat with many a thrill. For Ireland, after all, is Ireland still.