Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

LONDON MAGAZINE.

No. XXXV.

NOVEMBER, 1822.

VOL. VI.

CONTENTS.

477

Che Lion's head. 387 | The ACADEMY of TASTE for GROWN

GENTLEMEN, or the Infant Con.

noisseur's Go-Cart, by JANUS The Cockpit ROYAL:

WEATHERCOCX, Esq....... 445 Edward Herbert's Letters to the

MODERN GALLANTRY, by ELIA....453 Family of the Powells, No. V.

455 with a Wood Engraving..... 389

Song: Awake, my Love!...

On the Moral Influence of Etiquette The Last of Autumn: by John Clare 403 and Parade.....

456 FONTHILL ABBEY, by the Author Review: Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, of Table Talk.....

405 &c. by Alan Cunningham ... 460 Walking Stewart.....

410
The DRAMA.....

466 EARLY FRENCH POETS, with Trans

Report of Music.

473 lations :

The Falling Leaf: by Mr. MontMaurice Sceve and Guillaume des

gomery Autels

413 Abstract of Foreign and Domestic Occurrences

477 On the Life and Writings of Richard Jago.

Literary and Scientific Intelligence.. 483 Continuation of Dr. Johnson's Lives of the Poets........... 419

Monthly Register. The Tale of ALLAN LORBURNE,

Agricultural Report.

65 Mariner: with Ballads : viz.

Commercial Report.....

66 The Sailor's Lady :

Works preparing for Publication and
Low Germanie

421
lately published...

69–71 Review: Bracebridge Hall, by the Bankruptcies and sequestrations..... 74

Author of the Sketch Book ........ 436 Births, Marriages, and Deaths .. 75–76 The Story of Ampelus, translated from Ecclesiastical Preferments

77 the Dionysiacs of Nonnus :

Observations on the Weather, for Sept. 73 The Foot Race:

72 The Swimming Match:

Meteorological Journal, for Sept..
Pastimes of Ampelus:
Patents

77 Death of Ampelus 440 | Markets, Stocks, &c.

77-80

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR TAYLOR AND HESSEY.

[Entered at Stationers' Hall.]

THE LION'S HEAD.

IMMEDIATELY after the publication of a just and excellent Essay upon French PRETENSIONs in our last number, we met with a passage in Diodorus Siculus, which would have made the aptest motto to the paper that Author could desire. We cannot resist still letting our readers see what a writer of the time of Julius Cæsar thought of the French, because it is really astonishing that the national character of France should have undergone so little alteration in the space of 2000 years. What an eternal dance of mind and body this volatile people seems to be involved in !

They (the Gauls) are high and hyperbolical in trumpeting out their own praises ; but speak slightly and contemptibly of others. They are apt to menace others ; self-opi. nionated ; grievously provoking; of sharp wits, and apt to learn.-Diodorus Siculus, Chap. ii. Booth's Translation.

The following poem is melodiously written, and, with the exception of the fourth line of the first stanza, has more sweetness in it than generally marks our anonymous modern lyrics. We should, however, be glad to know the meaning of the said fourth line-it quite pozes us.

FAREWELL TO ITALY.

Written on leaving Genoa, May, 1822.
Farewell to the land of the south !

Farewell to the lovely clime
Where the sunny vallies smile in light,

And the piny mountains climb.
Farewell to her bright blue seas !

Farewell to her fervid skies !
0! many and dear are the thoughts that crowd
O'er the soften'd heart, while it sighs

Farewell to the land of the south !
As the look of a face beloved,

Was that bright land to me,
It enchanted my sense—it sunk on my heart

Like music's witchery.
Through every thrilling nerve

I felt the genial air :
For life is life in that glowing clime :
'Tis death of life elsewhere !

Farewell to the land of the south !
The poet's splendid dreams

Have hallow'd each grove and hill,
And the beautiful forms of ancient faith

Are lingering round us still.
And the spirits of other days,

Invoked by fancy's spell,
Are roll'd before the kindling thought,
While we breathe our last farewell

To the glorious land of the south !
A long-a last adieu,

Romantic Italy !
Thou land of beauty, and love, and song,

As once of the brave and free!
Alas! for thy golden fields !

Alas ! for thy classic shore !
Alas ! for thy myrtle and orange bowers !
I shall never behold them more,
Farewell to the land of the south !

A. B. M.

We have received a letter (directed “to be delivered immediately,") giving us a description of The Mermaid now exhibiting in St. James's Street, from the pen of “ Dr. Rees Price, a gentleman distinguished for his scientific literary productions." Does the proprietor of this suspicious importation think that we never read Sheridan's Puff Collateral, or that we will artlessly stand a comma 'tween the amities of him and the Stamp Office! No-noBesides, who is this distinguished Dr. Rees Price? We really do not know him-nor can we meet with any one who does. Has he any interest in this herring-tailed lady? -The Mermaid, in fact, comes very suspiciously, per the Americans. Now, if Mermaids do really exist, we must say we are surprised that no fisherman ever netted a specimen since the year One!

The following is taken, as Nimrod assures us, from a real “ Old Poem,” upon hunting, and indeed it has the appearance of having never been young.

Jomthood

Now the loud (rp is up-and hark !
Che barky Trees give back pe Bark.

Vousewife heares the merrie route
and runnes and lets the Beere run out
Leaving her Babes to weepe, for why?
She likes to beare the Deer-Dogs crpe
and see the wild Stag how he stretches
The natural Buckskin of his Breeches
Running like one of Human kind
Dogged by Fleet Bapriffs close behind
as if he had not paid his Bill
For Venison, or was owing still
For his two Hornes and soe did get
Over his Head and Cares in Debt:
Wherefore he strives to paie his Wape
With his long Legs the while he mape
But he is chased, like silver Disbe,
As well as anye Hart can wishe
ercept that one whose Heart doth beate
So faste it hasteneth his feete
And running soe he holdeth Deathe
four feete from him till his Breathe
Failes, and slacking Pace at laste
De runs not slow but standech faste
With horny Baponettes at Bape
To baping Dogs around, and they
Pushing him hard, he pusheth sore,
And goreth them that seek his Bore.
whatever Dog his Morne doth rive
Is dead as sure as he's alive!
so that Pourageous Wart doth fighte
With fate,- and calleth up his mighte
and standeth stout that he map falle
Bravelp and be avenged of alle,
Nor like a Foward pield his breathe
Vnder the laws of Dogs and Deathe.

We really have not room this month for particular replies to our numerous Unknowns. We only request they will not mistake our Silence for Consent.

[blocks in formation]

EDWARD HERBERT'S LETTERS TO THE FAMILY OF THE POWELLS.

No. V.

To Russell Powell, Esq.

It has a strange quick jar upon the ear,
That COCKING

Lord Byron.

Dear Russell,—To write short hopes-spake of pain and its comand dispirited letters is one of the pany of evil spirits-of sea-side solitokens of a distempered frame. I tude and melancholy readings :blush to find by the packet of anxious I wish I had written no such foolnotes and tender enquiries, lately re- ery. Do you know, Russell, that a ceived from your family, that I have few morning rambles on the beach, furnished them a messenger of alarm and a few early excursions in the and disquiet, by my last brief but fishing boats, gave my feelings a tedious epistle from the country. new life on the instant, and made me When women are ill, they bear their better and blither than I ever in my sufferings with silence and patience, life remember to have been. I arose but the moment we masters of the with the sun (no common trick of creation are nipped by ailments, we mine); and while the sky was yet lose no time in hallooing to the world white, and the cold brisk waves came about our agony and magnanimity— shuddering in with a green gloom and in writhing before visitors like upon the beach,- I scrambled into giants in pain. I am sorry to say, one of the old black fishing boatsmy dear Russell, that experience and oh, how bravely did we spread daily proves to me, that in all great the brown sail on the graceless pole things we men are frightfully little of a mast, and dance off to our proand that it is the weaker sex that fitable sport! I assisted in putting rise with the difficulties of the time, out the nets -I assisted in managing and that display unaffected great- the boat-1 assisted in the pulling in. ness and power, in the moments of Suchflapping and flashing in the light! anguish, disappointment, or despair. --such tossing and breaking of waves! I gave to your sister the other day We would return before the day was a melancholy report of myself-hinted warm-and I relished my breakfast at declining health and decaying with part of the spoils. Sometimes, Vol. VI.

2 F

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »