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Venticelli e fresche aurette
The little fresh airs ..'
Then ensues a passage which is much admired in Italy, but to which, we fear, it is impossible for us to do justice in English. Translators however ought not to fear; nor should we distrust at any rate a handsome bustle through our version, if we could be secure in these northern latitudes of falling upon none but readers with good spirits. Cucurrucu is the burden of a popular song, in which the singer imitates the voice and actions of a cock. Bacchus is now fairly drunk, and divides his slippery speech between his mistress and the fancied boatmen. “ Su voghiamo,
“ Row, brothers, row, Navighiamo,
• We'll sail and we'll go, Navighiamo infino a Brindisi : We'll sail and we'll go, till we Arianna, Brindis, Brindisi ;
settle in PortPassavoga, arranca, arranca, Ariadne, in Por-in Port. · Che la ciurma non si stanca, Pull away, pull away, Anzi lieta si rinfranca
Without drag or delay : Quando arranca inverso Brindisi : No gallants grow tired, but think Arianna, Brindis, Brindisi :
it a sport, E se a te Brindisi io fo,
To feather their oars till they Perchè a me faccia il buon pro,
settle in Port
Arianeeny, my beauty, my queeny, La cuccurucù,
Shall sing me a little, and play to Su la mandola la cuccurucù.
me too Passavd
Onthe mandola, the coocooroocoo, Passavd
The coocooroocoo.! Passavoga, arranca, arranca, The coocooroocoo, Che la ciurma non si stanca, On the mandòla, the coocooroocoo,
Anzi lieta si rinfrancà, . A long pum
A strong pu-
pull altogether! E se a te,
Gallants and boaters who know E se a te Brindisi io fo,
how to feather, Perchè a me,
Never get tired, but think it a sport, Perchè a me,
To feather their oars, till they Perchè a me faccia il buon pro,
settle in PortIl buon pro,
Ariadne, in Por-in Port; Ariannuccia leggiadribelluccia, I'll give thee à toasCantami un po',
I'll give thee a toast and then, Cantami un po',
you know, you Cantami un poco, e ricantami tu Shall give me one too. Su la vid,
Araneeny, my quainty,my queeny, Su la viola la cuccurucù,
Sing me, you roLa cuccurucu,
Sing me, you roSu la viola la cuccurucù.”
Sing me, you rogue, and play to
On the vidla, the coocooroocoo." From this intoxication the God recovers in a manner a little too human, and returning to his cups, finally makes his election among the wines, and pronounces Montepulciano to be king of them all. For our parts, when in Italy, we should have voted for the wine of the place we lived in,-Maiano,-as by far the best of any we ever drank, Italian or otherwise; but that was of a select vintage belonging to the lord of the ground. We should have preferred Aleatico and Chianti wine to Montepulciano; but the scruple which we had of the latter was probably none of the best. We need not add, that the Tuscan poet ought to know best. “ Fill, fill,” cries the Deity“ Ognun colmilo, ognun votilo: “ Fill, fill, let us all have our will : Ma di che si colmerà ?
But with what, with what, boys, Bella Arianna, con bianca mano
shall we fill?
Versa la manna di Montepulciano: Sweet Ariadne-no, not that one,
ciano : O come l ugola e baciami e mor. Fill me a magnum, and reach it demi!
me.Gods ! O come in lagrime gli occhj dis- How it slides to my heart by the ciogliemi!
sweetest of roads!'' ir Me ne strasecolo, me ne strabilió, Oh, how it kisses me, tickles me, E fatto estatico vo' in visibilio,
bites me! Onde ognun, che di Lieo
Oh how my eyes loosen sweetly Riverente il nome adora,
' Ascolti questo altissimo decreto, I'm ravished ! I'm rapt! Heav'n Che Bassareo pronunzia, e gli finds me admissible ! dia fe.
Lost in an extacy! blinded ! inMontepulciano d'ogni vino è il re.
visible ! A così lieti accenti,
“ Hearken, all earth! D'edere e di corimbi il crine-adorne, We, Bacchus, in the might of our Alternavano i vanti
great mirth, Le festose Baccanti:
To all who reverence us, and are Ma i Satiri che avean bevuto a right thinkers ;— isonne,
Hear, all ye drinkers ! Si sdrajaron su l' erbetta
Give ear, and give faith, to our Tutti cotti come monne.”
edict divineMontepulciano's the King of all
The Nymphs, in giddy rounds,
sand shapes. The Satyrs would have joined
them ; but alas ! They could'nt ; for they lay
about the grass, As drunk as apes.”
SPECIMENS OF THE NOTES.
Sensation or Plants.-Redi was inclined to attribute a greater degree of animation to the vegetable world, than is generally assigned it. It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to witness the sensibility of such plants as the Mimosa, and not associate with them the idea of sensation. Perhaps trees and flowers may receive a sort of dim pleasure from the air and sunshine, proportionate to the rest of their share of animal life. The stems of the vine look as vital as can well be conceived. I speak of them when they are fresh and red. A vineyard in the winter time, full of their old, crusty-looking, dry, tortuous long bodies, resembles a collection of earthy serpents. Who would suppose, that out of all that apparent drought and unfeelingness, were to come worlds of bunches of fruit, bursting with wine and joy?
· STRANGE METAMORPHOSES OF ENGLISH WORDS by FOREIGNERS.The original word for “cask” is Bellicone, which is neither more nor less than the English word Welcome! “Bellicone,” says Redi, “is a new word in Tuscany, and comes from the German, who call it Wilkomb or Wilkumb. It is a glass in which they drink to the arrival of their friends. The Spaniards have got it, and call it Velicomen.”—These transmutations remind me of the arrival of my Lord Maryborough, then Mr Wellesley Pole, in France; which was announced to the wondering natives as the coming of “ Milord Vesteveneypoel” But see a translation of the Travels of Redi’s master, Cosmo the Third, in England, which has been lately published. The word Vittheal (for Whitehall), which I find in Redi's works, is nothing to what the reader will find there. Kensington is called by some such impossibility as Imhinthorp.* . .
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1No. XXV. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 25, 1828.
* « Something alone yet not alone, to be wished, and only
A WALK FROM DULWICH TO BROCKHAM.
IN A LETTER TO A FRIEND. WITH AN ORIGINAL CIRCUMSTANCE OR TWO RESPECTING DR JOHNSON.
Dear Sir, As other calls upon my pilgrimage in this world have interrupted those weekly voyages of discovery into green lanes and rustic houses of entertainment, which you and I had so agreeably commenced, I thought I could not do better than make you partaker of my new journey, as far as pen and paper could do it. You are therefore to look upon yourself as having resolved to take a walk of twenty or thirty miles into Surrey, without knowing anything of the matter. You will have set out with us a fortnight ago, and will be kind enough to take your busts for chambermaids, and your music (which is not so easy) for the voices of stagecoachmen.
Illness, you know, does not hinder me from walking; neither does anxiety. On the contrary, the more I walk, the better and stouter I become; and I believe if everybody were to regard the restlessness which anxiety creates, as a signal from nature to get up and contend with it in that manner, they would find the benefit