The poet then fancies gathering around the player's tomb, led thither by the Tragic Muse,--the Moor, "with unrivall'd grace;" ill-fated Antony; injured Theseus; feeble Lusignan; woe-stricken Evander; heart-bleeding Jaffier; and, chief of all, Romeo, with "melting tears," "voice of love and soothing eloquence." Thalia, too, brings in Bevil and Townley;-- "And oh! farewell, she cries, _my graceful son_!!" Graceful, but pathetic as he was graceful. This was especially the case when, in his younger days, he played with Mrs. Cibber,--Castalio to Monimia,--at which a comic actor, once looking on, burst into tears, and was foolish enough to be ashamed of it. No two (so critics thought) played lover and mistress, wife and husband, as they did. Mrs. Cibber, said these critics, who forgot her Beatrice to Garrick's Benedick, could, with equal, though different effect, be only the daughter or sister to Garrick;--Cordelia to Garrick's Lear, but a Juliet to Barry's Borneo, a Belvidera to his Jaffier. When Mrs. Bellamy acted with him, the effect was less complete. Colley Cibber was in the house on the night of his first appearance as Othello--did what he was not accustomed to do,--applaud loudly; and is said to have preferred Barry, in this character, to either Betterton or Booth. In Orestes, Barry was so incomparable, that Garrick never attempted the part in London. His Alexander lost all its bombast, in his hands, and gained a healthy vigour; while, says Davies, "he charmed the ladies repeatedly, by the soft melody of his love complaints, and the noble ardour of his courtship." The grace of his exit and entrance was all his own; though he took lessons in dancing, from Desnoyers, to please the Prince of Wales. Barry was a well-informed man, had great conversational powers, and told an Irish story with an effect which was only equalled by that with which he acted Sir Callaghan O'Brallaghan. In that accomplishment and this character, Garrick owned that Barry was not to be approached; but, said the former, "I can beat Barry's head off in telling all stories, but Irish ones." It was in pathos on the stage, not in humour off it, that Barry excelled. "All exquisitely tender or touching writing," says an anonymous contemporary, "came mended from his mouth. There was a pathos, a sweetness, a delicacy, in his utterance, which stole upon the mind, and forced conviction on the memory. Every sentiment of honour and virtue, recommended to the ear by the language of the author, were rivetted to the heart by the utterance of Barry." Excessive sensibility conquered his powers. His heart overcame his head; but Garrick never forgot himself in his character. Barry felt all he uttered, before he made his audience feel; but Garrick made his audience feel, and was not overcome by his own emotions.