It may be at this moment interesting to mention that the first Covent Garden Theatre was opened under the patent granted to Sir William Davenant for the Dorset Gardens and Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatres. We must also acknowledge our obligation for the preceding notes to the _Companion to the Theatres_, a pretty little work which we noticed _en passant_ when published, and which we now seasonably recommend to the notice of our readers. * * * * * FOUR SONNETS. (_For the Mirror_.) SPRING. Season of sighs perfumed, and maiden flowers, Young Beauty's birthday, cradled in delight And kept by muses in the blushing bowers Where snow-drops spring most delicately white! Oh it is luxury to minds that feel Now to prove truants to the giddy world, Calmly to watch the dewy tints that steal O'er opening roses--'till in smiles unfurled Their fresh-made petals silently unfold. Or mark the springing grass--or gaze upon Primeval morning till the hues of gold Blaze forth and centre in the glorious sun! Whose gentler beams exhale the tears of night, And bid each grateful tongue deep melodies indite. SUMMER. Now is thy fragrant garland made complete, Maturing year! but as its many dyes Mingle in rainbow hues divinely sweet, They fade and fleet in unobserved sighs! Yet now all fresh and fair, how dear thou art, Just born to breathe and perish! touched by heaven, From lifeless Winter to a beating heart, From scathing blasts to Summer's balmy even! Methinks some angel from the bowers of bliss, In May descended, scattering blossoms round, Embraced each opening flower, bestowed a kiss, And woke the notes of harmony profound; But ere July had waned, alas, she fled, Took back to heaven the flowers, and left the falling leaves instead. AUTUMN. Field flowers and breathing minstrelsy, farewell! The rose is colourless and withering fast, Sweet Philomel her song forgets to swell, And Summer's rich variety is past! The sear leaves wander, and the hoar of age Gathers her trophy for the dying year, And following in her noiseless pilgrimage, Waters her couch with many a pearly tear. Yet there is one unchanging friend who stays To cheer the passage into Winter's gloom-- The redbreast chants his solitary lays, A simple requiem over Nature's tomb, So, when the Spring of life shall end with me, God of my Fathers! may I find a changeless Friend in thee! WINTER.