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And many a claimant of a cord

Passes for Baronet and Lord.'-pp. 90-92.

Some person has pointed out to us the concluding lines of the third canto, as no unworthy imitation of the peculiar style of Beppo. Let the reader judge.

Dan Apollo! fool-enslaver,

When I had your worship's fever,
(But a sort of schoolboy tertian,
Cured by Newmarket immersion),
I have stood at set of sun,
Cloud-collecting, one by one;
Wild with all their twistings, turnings,
Softenings, sweetenings, fadings, burnings;
Building in each ruddy stain,

Glorious "Chateux en Espagne ;"

Watching the delicious twilight

Peeping from her Eastern skylight;
Like an Andalusian maid

Listening to a serenade:

Like a vestal freshly sainted,

With her cheek half pale, half-painted;
Like a Turkish beauty showing
Through her veil the roses glowing;
Till 'twas but a softer morn,
Silvery rose the Lunar horn.

Or around her high abode,
Tempest, like an ocean flow'd;
Till the lightning's sulphur-gleam
Flamed on mountain, vale, and stream;

And the vaporous upper world,

Roll'd like armies downward hurl'd,

Titans, by the thunder driven

From the sapphire gates of Heaven;
While the swellings of the gale,
Seem'd their trumpets' broken wail.
Then along the mighty blue
Rose like flowerets pale and few,
Over which a storm had gone,
Star and starlet, one by one,
Like the lamps in some high fane,
Struggling through the tempest-stain;
As it vanish'd, richer mustering,
Orb on orb in glory clustering;
Till the temple of the night
Blazed with the immortal light.
Trifles-Fancy's long past gleams,-
Boyish, more than boyish dreams;
Things of many a year ago—
Yet what have our years to show,

With their thousand secret stings,
Better than those boyish things?

From our cradles to our shrouds,

What are hopes, joys, loves,-but clouds ?'-pp. 134-137.

One extract more, and we have done. We are borne towards it for its just praise of Pasta, whom we are happy to see again arrived amongst us, in high health and spirits. The picture of the operahouse is accurate and lively.

The Haymarket's a burst of light;
The Opera-mighty Pasta's night!
Bold, splendid, tragic, first the song
Bursts like a cataract along ;

Then, like a mountain stream subsiding,
Between its banks of roses gliding,
The harmony, sweet, solemn, clear,
In new enchantment bathes the ear.
Yet noble as her noblest strain,

The actress o'er us throws the chain;
The queenly step, the depth of eye,
The strife of passion wild and high,
The art, true nature's matchless art,
Its strength, its burning source, the heart;
The searching agony of tone,

Make all the struggling soul her own.

The spell dissolved,-I take my rounds;
A licensed sportsman on those grounds:
The rich preserve, that few approach,
Without a title and a coach;

But I, who "know the price of stocks,"
Cry "Sesame!" to every box;

They know I scorn the charming ties,
So take my folly as it flies.

We settle" who escapes to Paris,"-
"Whose in the Austrian box the star is;
"What wonder in the red and yellow

"Has fix'd thy lorgnette, Count P-lm-lla;

"What whisker'd monster, Mynheer Falck

"Holds in such very solemn talk;

"Whose cheeks and chin are too much tinted,

"Whose marriage has been more than hinted;
"Whom all-resistless P-1-gn-c

"Has kept this fortnight on the rack;
"Whom L-v-n thinks the Belle to-night,

(The Prince is always in the right);

Pasta, a very powerful performer; since Catalani, the Italian stage has produced no more brilliant and commanding voice. Her acting is still rarer upon the stage; and those who have not seen her Medea and Semiramide, have yet to learn the power of combined gesture and song.'

"For whom is built the Viscount's villa,-
“But hark,—'tis magic, or Brambilla."
'Then drops the eye upon the pit,

Where dandies stand, and dowdies sit;
The irksome prison of he-brutes,

That to their beds would take their boots;
Where St-nh-pe in the foremost tier,
Performs an extra chandelier,
Reflecting on his polish'd forehead

The light from every stage-lamp borrow'd.

#

Or, where the Foreign Office nest

Shews fifty in a box comprest;
The diplomatic exquisites!

Copies of statesmen, beaux, and wits.
Thus men, ordain'd the world to master,
Give their fac-similes in plaster;

And Chathams, Wellingtons, and Naps,

Are sold by Savoyards for raps.'—pp. 157–162.

In this currente calamo style, the author contrives to introduce a great variety of subjects, to which, as we have seen, he lends a tolerable degree of sprightliness. But that such metrical facility rises to the merit of poetry, we no more believe, than that' May Fair' will be read when "Beppo" is forgotten. To pursue criticism farther on a work which, written on the spur of the moment, will perish with the season that produced it, would be like scrutinising through a microscope the coloured wing of a butterfly, or still worse, breaking the insect itself on the wheel described by Pope.

NOTICES.

ART. XV. A Concise and Practical Treatise on the Growth and Culture of the Carnation, &c.; including a Dissertation on Soils and Manures, &c. By Thomas Hogg, Florist. 4th Edition, with Additions, 8vo. 8s. 6d. London: G. and W. B. Whittaker. 1827.

FLOWER-GROWING in this country has become, under the encouragement of the prizes, as well as the praises of the rich- -an art that is now pursued with increasing interest, and no doubt, like the other branches of national industry, will have, one of these sessions, an act of parliament to itself.

Downing-street has its representative majesty in the Opera House, in the shape of a whole desk-full, I beg pardon, box-full of very well-dressed young gentlemen. They attend with great decorum to the performance, carry on their diplomatic etiquette to each other with great gravity, and, unless when the shoe of a figurante flies into their box, from its peculiar proximity to the stage, or the kettle-drums are engaged in a charge, seem to be happy. Yet it is painful to see them so dismally squeezed together; though it must be allowed that they suffer with the patience of martyrs.

Nobody can find fault with such an amiable enthusiast as Mr. Hogg, for entertaining the harmless notion, that the culture of a carnation, and the care of an infant heir to these realms, are matters which equally challenge the grave solicitude of those, who are solicitous for the happiness and glory of our common country. A minister of state can scarcely reckon up a greater number of anxious hours, than he who is periodically loaded with the responsibility, of keeping up the suitable splendour of the pleasure garden. The site which his flower-pots are to occupy, as well in winter as in summer, demands much pondering, and great judgment. And what a season of patient preparation is his, before the sowing time arrives! It is not alone that the fundamental soil must be perfectly unobjectionable, but the artificial layer-the compost, from whose bosom the beautiful carnation is to rise, blushing and expanding-is beyond the hope of any man to fabricate, except he be free of the genuine brotherhood of the garden. How, otherwise, is it possible that he should be able, with discreet hand, to adjust the proportion of contradictory elements? to hold the scales evenly between yellow loam and maiden mould-between the sand of the pit, and the sweepings of the stall-redressing the arid and reluctant nature of the one, by the luxuriant richness of the other?

And when the infant plant shall have advanced into manifest existence, a new order of cares arises for the horticulturist. Small-pox, measles, the thousand ills to which the childhood of man is liable, are but imperfect types of those dangers, that beset the helpless stages of the existence of a flower. There is the gathering of green flies to bear down upon it, a countless host-the corrosive ear-wig-the still more fatal grub, that entrenches itself in some adjacent subterranean receptacle by day, and then, burglar like, sallies forth in the hour of darkness, to lay waste both pod and petal, sparing neither blossom nor bud;-and there is, lastly, the wily wireworm, that penetrates to the stem by sap and mine, wasting, by degrees, the life and beauty of the flower.

Safe from all these perils, the carnation must still be the object of tenderest attention. The irregular and premature disclosure of the contents of the pod-the feebleness of the young blossom-the hazard that the "winds of Heaven should visit it too roughly"-such are the accidents and calamities, that keep the anxious gardener in a fever of doubt, for a season, until the full-blown carnation crowns his hopes and fills his heart with joy.

The christening of a flower is an event that must not be spoken of without due respect. Unhappily for those floral artists, whose literary education has been neglected, there is an uncommon scarcity of famous names at the present moment. There is not a single god or goddess of ancient mythology unappropriated at this day-all the British monarchs-the whole catalogue of British heroes, may be found in blossom, this very season, in one or other of the genteel nurseries that stand adjacent to the metropolis.

They who ponder, with delighted eye, over the matchless splendours of the annual Flower Show, little think to what an extent nature has submitted to a junction with art, in order to refine the charms of the carnation. The only true system of flower dressing was the invention of Kit Nunn, of Enfield, who began life as a barber, but followed horticulture from inclination-so irregularly alternating between the practice of the garden and of

the shop, as sometimes to forget whether it was a curl or a petal that demanded his attention. He succeeded, however, in applying the great principles of the friseur to the decoration of flowers; and towards the eve of an exhibition, the elegant Kitt was resorted to by gardeners far and wide, to submit their flowers to his exquisite finger. But still within the very precincts of the county where the artist flourished, people were found to think lightly of carnations; and, without presuming to adopt the language of censure on the occasion, Mr. Hogg quotes the case of a very singular preference for " heart's ease," in no less celebrated a personage than Mrs. Siddons herself. This lady cultivated a garden in the Harrow Road, where "heart's ease" was set with unsparing profusion. Her incessant demand for this flower, as soon as spring set in, obtained, amongst the surrounding gardeners, the name of Miss Heart's-ease, for her pretty hand-maid and purveyor; nor is it forgotten, that the faithful delegate used to chaffer for her purchases in the severest spirit of thrifty dealing. In this retreat also, it is curious to find, what a partiality was shown for the cypress, the yew, the bay-tree, the spurge laurel, the widow-wail, every shrub of deciduous growth, every tree of mournful association. The tragic genius of the place seemed to haunt it in every part

"Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,

Shades every flower, and darkens every green."

Mr. Hogg's directions are so plain, so ample-so completely do they embrace every necessary act to be performed by the gardener, from the combination of the compost, which is to receive the embryo carnation, to the last and crowning display of art on the full-blown glowing flower, that perfection in the art will be no longer the lucrative mystery of his profession. The very lively and entertaining manner in which the work is written, is very strongly characteristic of the author's avocation; and as a mere source of amusement, without any intention of profiting by its instruction, the general reader may, with great advantage, apply himself to this book.

ART. XVI. Specimens of Romaic Lyric Poetry, with a translation into English. To which is prefixed a Concise Treatise on Music. By Paul Maria Leopold Joss. 8vo. pp. 143. London: Glynn. 1827.

THIS collection appears to us to merit considerable attention, not merely from the interest which will always attach to the country where these specimens have been gathered, but from the very high degree of merit which, as lyrical compositions, they possess. We believe that nearly the whole of the poetical literature of modern Greece is confined to her songs.-Lord Byron has recorded his admiration of many of those effusions-but the noble bard could not have had an adequate opportunity of ascertaining the multiplicity and variety of Romaic lyrics, inasmuch as a great proportion of them could be hardly said to have existed in his time, in any visible embodied shape. The passionate ardour, which recommended to his attention and patronage, a few of the Greek amatory songs that casually reached him in his travels, breathes through the stanzas of the two Anacreontics which are presented to us by Mr. Joss. They have also, in common with the whole of the lyric effusions contained in this volume, a uniform melodious

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