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· An undertaking on the above plan would in- # made honourable mention of in this work, sure success, for every town and city would would not delay in offering themselves as gratake an interest in its support, and every truetuitous travellers. Subscribers would come born epicure would joyfully contribute some in crowds, and the Editor's table would daily thing to its improvement. But a considerable be covered with exquisite dainties which, as sum would be required to establish a work of presents, would shower upon them from every this kind, as it would need a very extensivell quarter. We do not applaud ourselves a little correspondence, and nunerous travellers must for having conceived this plan, and hope that be kept at a high salary, in order to make dis- some of our readers will put it in execution ; coveries, and these must be men scientifically || but while waiting in the hope of our wishes acquainted with the art, it is true that this being realized, we will in our next gire 23 advance would soon be repaid with interest; || account of a few discoveries that have been as many celebrated provincial epicures, ani lately made on the Continent, and which our mated with the zeal of furthering so glorious correspondents have kindly forwarded to us. a cause, stimulated with the hope of being


'ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER. And let the hat that shields thy head, STAY, sylvan friend, with plenty blest,

Around its ample cover spread; Who scorn'st the niggard's icy breast;

This do for health, nor stint her: And as alone, at early morn,

Above the rest, be this your care, You brush the thicket, trace the lawn, Use exercise and morning air ; List to what sings Amintor :

And this you'll find of such avail, To thee the friendly hint is sent,

Wbile city fops look thin and pale,
Where inore than meets the ear is meant;

You'll wear the rose in winter.
The while, with dog and gun, you roam,
Think on your townsman, far from home,
Deny'd the sports of winter.

When Easter chicks begin to crow,

Nay gather not that filbert, Nicholas, And azure decks the mountain sloe;

There is a maggot there, it is his house, When forest trees wear sickly hues,

His castle-oh commit no burglary! And agues wait on evening dews,

Strip him not naked, 'tis his clothes, his shell, Lay up health, nor stint her :

His bones, the very armour of his life,
Prepare the ham, the chick, the chine, And thou shalt do no murder, Nicholas!
Nor spare the produce of the vine;

It were an easy thing to crack that not,
Fill, fill thy stores with brightest coal, Or with thy crackers or thy double teeth
And something for the Christmas bowl, So easily all things may be destroyed!
To cheer thy friend in winter.

But 'tis not in the power of mortal man

To mend the fracture of a fibert shell.
The reaper's moon and harvest past,
Rude blows the equinoctial blast,

There were two great men once amused them

selves Ah! now, ny rural friend, beware, This season claims thy utmost care;

With watching maggots run their wriggling Health bids thee store, nor stiut her:


And wagering on their speed; but Nick, to us Survey thy cot, secure thy roof,

It were no sport to see the pampered worin Soon make it rain and tempest proof;

Roll out and then draw in his folds of fat, So when the sable cloud falls low,

Like to some barber's leathern powder bag Thy heart shall yield the pleasing glow,

Wherewith he feathers, frosts, or cauliflowers That sooths the rage of winter.

Spruce Beau, or Lady fair, or Doctor grave. Re-furbisb up thy warm surtout,

Enough of dangers and of enemies The buckskin glove and friendly boot; I Hath nature's wisdom for the worm ordained;


Increase not thou the number! bin the mouse, || Arcadia displays but a region of dreams: Gnawing with ribbling tooth the shells de- || What are visions like these to the first kiss fence,

of love? May from his native tenement eject;

| Oh! cease to affirm, that man, since his birth, Hin may the nut-batch, piercing with strong | From Adam, till now, has with wretchedness

strove; Unwittingly destroy, or to his hoard

Some portion of Paradise still is on earth, The squirrel bear, at leisure to be crack'd.

And Eden revives in the first kiss of love. Man also hath his dangers and his foes As this poor maggot hath, and when I muse

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures Upon the aches, anxieties, and fears,

are past, The maggot knows not-Nicholas, methinks

! For years feet away with the wings of the

dove,It were a happy metamorphosis

The dearest remembrance will still be the last, To be enkernelled thus: never to hear Of wars, and of invasions, and of plots,

Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love.
Kings, jacobines, and tax-commissioners;
To feel no motion but the wind that shook
The filbert-tree, and rock'd 'me to my rest;

And in the middle of such exquisite food DEAR Chloe, let not pride devour
To live luxurious! the perfection this

That little, vain, affected heart;
Of comfort! it were to unite at once

Because I said the fairest flower Hermit retirement, aldermanic bliss,

Ne'er breathed the sweets thy lips impart And stoic independence of mankind.

Nor spoil that face with airs so silly,

Nor point those lovely eyes with scorn;

Because I swore the rose and lily ---

Ne'er gave such beauties to the morn

Yes! thou art like-so like the flower,
AWAY with your fiction of flimsy romance, Its warning fate should fill with sorrow;
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has The blooming plaything of an hour,

But pluck'd, and torn, and dead to-morrow Give me the mild beam of the soul-breaking

glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss

WOMAN. of love.

The pride of the hero the theme of the bard, Ye rhymers whose hosoms with fantasy glow, Whom valour and genius rival to guard; Whose pastoral passions are made for the The soother of grief, of pleasure the zest, grovc;

Refining the passions that rage in his breast; From what blest inspiration your sonnets

Shall not Man, whom these virtues were gir'n would flow,

to bless, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of l Sweet Woman! thy charms and perfections love.


When the Deity bade his new planet descend, If Apollo should c'er his assistance refuse,

And deign'd in the system the orb to commend, Or the Nine be dispos'd from your service to

Benignant beheld creation's vast frame, rove,

And Man, his own image, there destin'd to Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse,

reign; And try the effect of the first kiss of love.

He saw the sole void in the mighty design, I bate you, ye cold compositions of art,

And Woman perfected-proclaim'd all divine, Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots Hence ye sophists, who vain would Omniscireprove, :

ence controul, I court the effusions that spring from the And in Woman's bright form deny dwells a heart,

soul; Which throbs with delight to the first kiss | By prejudice blinded, fair science ye veil, of love.

From minds that would svar where ye could Your shepherds, your flocks-those fantastical not prevail : themes,

Then assume that no sense the fair statues Perbaps may amuse, yet they never can possess, move,

And weakly assign them to folly and dress.


But oft, like a meteor, the spirit bursts bright,
Sheds a radiance that dazzles with awe and

Freed from trammels of ignorance, Woman

And the sage to her lesson delighted attends.
In the contest of with a sweet victor she shines,
And from custom, not weakness, stern learning

In Greece, when refinement first smild upon

Long, mighty Love, here smiling reigo,

Where Freedom's banners wave,
Thy chaste delights shall ever claim

The valour of the brave.
While tyrants iron sceptres sway,

While abject vassals groau,
Long may thy pow'r, 'mid Time's decay,

Beam on our happier throne.



When Art her new model and statue began;

When Credulity gave each perfection a form,
And bade them the fanes of her worship adorir:

COLD is the senseless heart that never strose What symbols chose sages, whoin still we ad

With the wild tumults of a real flame, mire,

Rugged the breast that beauty cannot tame, What emblems for virtues they wrote to in.

Nor youth's enlivening graces teach to love.

The patbless vale, the long forsaken grore, Thy form, lovely Woman, embodied each | The rocky cave that bears the fair one's thought,

name, And sculptors adord the fair marble they

With ivy mantled o'er. For empty fame wrought.

| Let him amidst the rabble toil, or rove Er'n now, when religion has beam'd on the

In search of plander far to Western clime. mind,

Give me to waste the hours in amorous play And no longer we worship the fair-ones en.

With Delia, beauteous maid, and build the shrin'd,

rhyme, What heart but yields homage to honour and ll Praisiug her flowing hair, her suowy arms, truth,

And all the prodigality of charms, As they charm in the person of beauty and Form’d to enslave my heart, and grace my lay!

That breast so repellent to reason's controul,
In the test of her converse to mark not a soul;

To him be the regions of dullness assign'd,
Not thon, lovely Woman, but he wants a mind. Hail, pensive virgin! ever hail!

Oft have I met thee in the vale,

And oft inscribed a song to thee,

When musing near yon aged tree :

Nor serious, silent Solitude, Wille all to sing thee, gentle passion,

Did'st thou despise my numbers rude. Each Muse's aid implore,

Remote from man, in shady dell, Since thou art now, 'tis said, in fashion,

Thou hearst the loud funereal bell, Receive one Laureat more.

Or from the thronged city far, Spirit of life! thy boundless sway

At evening counts each little star; Erects the warrior's plume,

Or by the pale moon's silver light, When thund'ring vollies dim the day,

O'er hill and forest takes thy flight. And threat his instant doom.

Sweet nun, who haunts the lonely lane, Cold though the courtier's bosom be,

Teach me that life is short and vain, Distrustful of each friend,

That grandeur, pageantry, and pow'r, It glows, auspicious Love! to thee

Will vanish all at death's dread hour; To tbee his brows unbend.

That beauty's roses soon decay,

Like oderiferous flow'rs in May; The plodding cit whose vigils still

Teach me to weep for others woe, At int’rest's shrine are paid,

O cause the tender tear to flow! Through his dense soul feels passion thrill,

Fair woodland nymph! when all is still, To sooth the toils of trade.

Thou climb'st the high adjacent hill, The Poet-wild enthusiast-tunes

And oft by Thames's rushy side,
Thy harp's sweet chords alone:

Delight'st to hear the smooth waves glide ; The player Romeo assumes

Sister of Peace and Piety, And feels his flame at home.

Sweet nun, I long to visit thçe,


|| No more than yf his barne were empty

In Septembre when all his corne is gone. JANUARIUS.

OCTOBER. THE fyrst six yeres of manues byrth and aege,

" By Octobre betokeneth sixty yere May well be compared to Janyuere For in this month is no strength nor courage

That age hastely dooth man assayle More than in a chyide of the aege of six

ll Yf he have outgh than it dooth appere

To lyve quyetly after his travayle.

The other six yeres is like February

ll Wan man is at sixty six yere olde

Which lykened is to bareyne Novembre In the ende thereof beguyneth the sprynge

| He waxeth unweldy sekely and cold That tyme children is most apt and redy

Than his soule helth is time to remembro. To receyve chatysement, nurture, and lern


The yere by Decembre taketh his ende

And so dooth man of threescore and twelve Marche betokeneth the six yeres followynge 1

Nature with aege wyll him on message sende Araying the erthe with pleasant verdure

Tho'tyme is come that he must go hymselve . That season youth thought for nothynge, And wothout thought dooth his sporte and pleasure. APRILIS.

The next six yere maketh foure and twenty

And figured is to joly Aprill
That tyme of pleasures man hath most plenty

nty || You are old, Father William, the young man

You are old, Fresche and louying his lustes to fulfyll.

cried, MAIUS.

The few locks that are left you are grey; As in the month of Maye all thing in mygth

|| You are bale, Father William, a hearty old So at thirty yeres man is in chyef lyking

man, Pleasaut and lusty to every mannes sygth

Now tell me the reason I pray. In beaute and strength to women pleasying. || In the days of my youth, Father William reJUNIUS.

plied, In June all thyng falleth to rypenesse

I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And so dooth man at thirty-six yere old || And abus'd not my hcalth and my vigour at first, And studyeth for to acquire rychesse

That I never might need them at last. And taketh a wife to keepe his householde.

You are old, Father William, the young man JULIUS.

cried, At forty yere of aege or elles never

And pleasures with youth pass away, Is ony man endewed with wysdome

And yet you lament not the days that are gone, For than forth his myght fayleth ever

Now tell me the reason I pray.
As in July doth every blossome.

In the days of my youth, Father William reThe goddess of the erthe is gadred evermore

plied, In August so at forty eight yere

I remember'd that youth conld not last; Man ought to gather some goodes in store

| I thought of the future, whatever I did, To susteyne aege that than draweth nere.

That I never might grieve for the past. SEPTEMBER

| You are old, Father William, the young man Lete no man thynke for to gather plenty


And life must be hastening away; Yf at fifty four yere he have none

You are cheerful, and love to converse upon * From a Sarum black-letter Missal, which |

death! appears to have been printed in the reign ofl Now tell me the reason I pray. Henry II. I send you these quaint lines, which I am cheerful, young inan, Father William are subjoined to the calendar. As books of replied, that early date are now become rare, perhaps Let the cause thy attention engage;these verses will be esteemed a curiosity by In the days of iny youth I remember'd my God! general readers

H. And he hath not forgotten my age.



ll at the theatre, viz.--"The Overture and New On Tuesday, November 17th, was pro- | Music composed by Mr. Shield;" and even if duced at this theatre for the first time, a new several of the melodies could not be traced to Opera, from the pen of Mr. Dibdin, entitled || former tunes, the manner in which they have Two Faces under a lood.

been adapted to the new words would shew The public have been so much indebted to that Mr. Shield cannot have originally comthis gentleman for a pleasant laugh at the posed them. In several of the songs the metre theatre, that it would be but justice to pardon of the poetry does not naturally correspond him greater errors than he is called to plead with that of the music, and the aukward proguilty to in the present piece.

i nunciation of many words which arises from it It is perhaps not the best of his dramas, but cannot please a discerning hearer. it most certainly is not the worst. It has the ! However, in other points of consideration, raciness of its parent soil, the smack of its ori- tbis Opera is of a very respectable kind. For ginal growth, in as strong a manner as any of such well composed, and equally well executed the other productions of this gentleman; but sestets, chorusses, trios, and dueis, are not it has not (we will be bold enough to say that generally to be met with in English Operas; exaggerated caricature, and pleasing eccentric and almost every song, from those in the bracity which, with all their grotesque violations rura style, to the pretty ones in the style of 3 of nature, never failed to please us better than Vauxhall song, with the row dow dow is good the studied attempts at seriousness and dra- || in all its kind. Mrs. Dickons shews in this matic skill, which have of late been frequent piece that she is not only a very respectable with the writers of this school.

singer, but also a very elegant and judicious Why will Mr. Dibdin relinquish his old habit | actress; but if she could hear the effect of her of punning? It was extremely amusing, and il good and powerful voice at a distance, she made us laugh heartily. He has not the grace |would find that she has no occasion to aim at or dignity to be serious, and he fails when he loudness, which sometimes takes away the ceases to be comical.

higher finisb of a passage, or overstrains a The plot of this piece is nothing worth men note with the most natural flow of her voice tioning. It is a female disguise, which com

she has power enough. mences with a straw bonnet and a stuff gown, Mr. Iucledon has not so many opportunities and is set to rights again by the assumption of shewing his abilities to advantage in this of a silk and muslia one. This is scarcely an

Opera as Mrs. Dickons, but in the song, “The incident, much less a plot; but this is all the il blast of war may loudly blow," with the finale plot which is shewn in the action.

after it, and in other difficult pieces, he mainThere was no character, properly so called, ll tains his usual respectability. in which a general humour was exhibited in Mr. Bellamy has a beautiful ballad which action. Liston was, as usual, a simpleton; 1 be sung delightfully, and was rewarded with Fawcett a droll; and Simmons a foolish town an encore and great applause. The good erclerk.

fects however, of this song and several others, The great excellence of this Opera is its would have been much encreased if the be music, which is principally the composition of had been less fierce in their accompaniments. Shield. His part of it is at once scientific and

once scientific and ! We were disappointed that Mr. Shield had not simple, tender without weakness, and simple | made more use of this performer's powers, as without inonotony.

he possesses an extensive and melodious voice, The fine solos on the bassoon, flute, and

with a full even tone, which enables him to harp, were ably executed by the orchestra, and

give a new character to our bass songs, the accompaniments on the harpsichord and

adding to the strength and expression of the organ were performed, for the most part, with English school, the taste and elegance or judgment and precision; but we were disap- Italian. pointed in not finding the whole of the music

Mrs. C. Kemble performed as well as ber to be new, and originally composed for the

part wonld admit; and Miss Bolton sung with Opera. This may be concladed from an am. | sweetness and taste. biguous line in the title-page of the book sold

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