and glowing. of the air On the grass an odd dew-drop was glittering yet, Like my aunt's diamond pin on her green tabbinet! And the birds seem to warble as blest, on the boughs, As if each a plumed Calicot had for her spouse, And the grapes were all blushing and kissing in rows, And-in short, need I tell you, wher ever one goes With the creature one loves, 'tis all couleur de rose; And ah, I shall ne'er, lived I ever so long, see A day such as that at divine Montmorency! There was but one drawback—at first when we started, The Colonel and I were inhumanly parted! How cruel-young hearts of such moments to rob! He went in Pa's buggy, and I went with Bob; And, I own, I felt spitefully happy to know That Papa and his comrade agreed but appears, too, he made-as most foreigners do About English affairs an odd blunder For example- misled by the names, 1 Though late when we started, the scent He confounded Jack Castles with Lord And-such a mistake as no mortal hit [clever one! Was like Gattie's rose-water-and bright, here and there, ever on Fancied the present Lord C-md-n the 1 The column in the Place Vendôme. But politics ne'er were the sweet | "Twas here he received from the fair fellow's trade; Twas for war and the ladies my (Who called him so sweetly her Bear, Colonel was made. D'Epinay, every day), That dear flannel petticoat, pulled off to form A waistcoat to keep the enthusiast I mean of his party-and, though much From sand and blue ribbons are conjured up here! [notions Alas, that a man of such exquisite It Should send his poor brats to the Foundling, my dear! 'Twas here, too, perhaps,' Colonel Calicot said[ledAs down the small garden he pensively (Though once I could see his sublime forehead wrinkle With rage not to find there the loved periwinkle3) 1 'Employant pour cela le plus beau papier doré, séchant l'ecriture avec de la poudre d'azur et d'argent, et cousant mes cahiers avec de la nompareille bleue.'-Les Confessions, Part 2. 2 This word 'exquisite' is evidently a favourite of Miss Fudge's; and I understand she was not a little angry when her brother Rob committed a pun on the last two syllables of it in the following couplet: 'I'd fain praise your poem-but tell me, how is it, When I cry out 'Exquisite,' Echo cries, "Quiz it!"" a rank Think, Doll, how confounded I looked -so well knowing The Colonel's opinions-my cheeks were quite glowing; Is just setting off for Montmartre 'for there is,' Said he, looking solemn, the tomb of the Vérys!1 Long, long have I wished, as a votary true, O'er the grave of such talents to utter my moans; And to-day, as my stomach in not in good cue For the flesh of the Vérys, I'll visit their bones!' He insists upon my going with himhow teasing! This letter, however, dear Doily, Unsealed in my drawer, that, if any may tell B. F. you NATIONAL AIRS. 1819 TO 1828. ADVERTISEMENT. It is Cicero, I believe, who says, Natura ud modos ducimur;' and the abun dance of wild indigenous airs which almost every country except England possesses, sufficiently proves the truth of his assertion. The lovers of this simple but interesting kind of music are here presented with the first number of a collection, which I trust their contributions will enable us to continue. A pretty air without words resembles one of those half creatures of Plato, which are described as wandering, in search of the remainder of themselves, through the world. To supply this other half, by uniting with congenial words the many fugitive melodies which have hitherto had none, or only such as are unintelligible to the generality of their hearers, is the object and ambition of the present work. Neither is it our intention to contine ourselves to what are strictly called National Melodies; but wherever we meet with any wandering and beautiful air, to which poetry has not yet assigned a worthy home, we shall venture to claim it as an estray swan, and enrich cur humble Hippocrene with its song. |