Parry's, will be considered very important, and the results far more interesting, than the issue of any campaign, naval or military. In fine, men will be " merry and wise." There will be less want, less contention, less toil, more enjoyment; but, after all, there will be left enough of the old leaven to prevent society becoming either stagnant or incurious. Though there will be less war, I apprehend there will still be some duelling, and I have no hope that such places as the Old Bailey can be entirely dispensed with.

M.

ADDRESS TO THE ORANGE TREE AT VERSAILLES, CALLED
THE GREAT BOURBON, WHICH IS ABOVE FOUR HUNDRED
YEARS OLD.

WHEN France with civil wars was torn,
And heads, as well as crowns, were shorn
From royal shoulders,

One Bourbon, in unalter'd plight,
Hath still maintain'd its regal right,
And held its court-a goodly sight
To all beholders.

Thou, leafy monarch, thou alone,
Hath sat uninjur'd on thy throne,
Seeing the war range;
And when the great Nassaus were sent
Crownless away, (a sad event!)
Thou didst uphold and represent
The House of Orange.

To tell what changes thou hast seen,
Each grand monarque, and king, and queen,
Of French extraction;

Might puzzle those who don't conceive
French history, so I believe
Comparing thee with ours will give
More satisfaction.

Westminster-hall, whose oaken roof,
The papers say, (but that's no proof)
Is nearly rotten;

Existed but in stones and trees

When thou wert waving in the breeze,
And blossoms, (what a treat for bees!)
By scores hadst gotten.

Chaucer, so old a bard that time
Has antiquated every chime,

And from his tomb outworn each rhyme
Within the Abbey;

And Gower, an older poet, whom
The Borough Church enshrines, (his tomb
Though once restor'd, has lost its bloom,
And got quite shabby,)

Liv'd in thy time-the first perchance
Was beating monks*, when thou in France
By monks wert beaten,

Who shook beneath this very tree,
Their reverend beards, with glutton glee,
As each downfalling luxury

Was caught and eaten.

Perchance, when Henry gain'd the fight
Of Agincourt, some Gaulish Knight,
(His bleeding steed in woeful plight,
With smoking haunches,)
Laid down his helmet, at thy root,
And as he pluck'd the grateful fruit,
Suffer'd his poor exhausted brute
To crop thy branches.

Thou wert of portly size and look,
When first the Turks besieged and took
Constantinople;

And eagles in thy boughs might perch,
When leaving Bullen in the lurch,
Another Henry changed his church,
And used the Pope ill.

What numerous namesakes hast thou seen
Lounging beneath thy shady green,
With monks as lazy;

Louis Quatorze has press'd that ground,
With his six mistresses around,

A sample of the old and sound
Legitimacy.

And when despotic freaks and vices
Brought on th' inevitable crisis

Of revolution,

Thou heard'st the mobs' infuriate shriek,
Who came their victim Queen to seek,
On guiltless heads the wrath to wreak
Of retribution.

O! of what follies, vice, and crime,
Hast thou, in thy eventful time,

Been made beholder!

There is a tradition, (though not authenticated) that Chaucer was fined for beating a friar in Fleet Street.

What wars, what feuds-the thoughts appal!
Each against cach, and all with all,
Till races upon races fall

In earth to moulder.

Whilst thou, serene, unalter'd, calm,
(Such are the constant gifts and balm
Bestow'd by Nature!)

Hast year by year renew'd thy flowers,
And perfum'd the surrounding bowers,
And pour'd down grateful fruit by showers,
And proffer'd shade in summer hours
To man and creature.

Thou green and venerable tree!
Whate'er the future doom may be
By fortune giv❜n,

Remember that a rhymester brought
From foreign shores thine umbrage sought,
Recall'd the blessings thou hadst wrought,
And, as he thank'd thee, raised his thought
To heav'n!

H.

REVOLUTION IN FASHION.

POPE tells us, that the sovereign beauties who grace and govern the empire of fashion, when to our dull senses they seem to end their career,

"In sylphs aloft repair,

and flutter in the fields of air."

And sport If any of the Belindas, or other "light coquettes" of the poet's days, should still, unfolding their "insect wings" to the sun, or more correctly, perhaps, to the brilliant chandelier, hover over the scenes of their past glories, and contemplate the vicissitudes and revolutions which have occurred in theirs, as in most other empires, they must be as deeply impressed with astonishment as "airy substance" well can be. Their surprise, and it is to be apprehended, their disapprobation may naturally be excited by the many, petty, every-day changes, which take place so gradually, that those who witness, scarcely notice them, until their attention is roused by some casual reference to the manners and customs painted in old plays, the Spectator, or the exquisite poem itself which has already been quoted. Amongst the instances of the mutability of human affairs, that have passed under the observation of beings, to whom the past and present are equally familiar, may be enumerated, the desertion of the Mall in St. James's Park for the Ring in Hyde Park; of the Ring for the road leading to Kensington; and latterly, for that between Piccadilly and Cumberland Gate; of the side-box of the national Theatre for the Italian Opera; subsequently of the Coffee-room of the Opera House for a sort of lobby, technically called the Crush-room, followed by the utter degradation of its once fashionable pit; the exchange of the mask, which heretofore

protected alike the complexion, and any slight irregularities in the conduct of its wearer, for the transparent veil; the renunciation of hoops and powder by one sex, and of embroidered silks, buckles, bags, and queues by the other; the alteration of hours-yet, upon reflection, this is a novelty which cannot but be considered as an improvement, even by the most prejudiced of the sylphic race: for as the hours of rising and going to bed seem always to have been for the fine world, as far back, at least, as the records of fashion extend, pretty much the same, it must be allowed a thing desirable, to make the dinner-hour harmonise with the rest of the system. In fact, as far as we have the means of judging, breakfast and dinner must, in those primitive times, have clashed most inconveniently; and, but that dejeunés à la fourchette, appear to have been unknown, we might suspect that the Lady Townleys and Lord Foppingtons enjoyed only one meal, where their successors are blest with two. But "if the light militia of the lower sky" are startled by such changes as these, what can they think of the exclusion of card-tables from assemblies, from all parties indeed, except such small ones as are wholly devoted to them? What of the transmutation of fine gentlemen into coachmen, stable-boys, and boxers ?—A sort of intermediate, or chrysalis state of existence, from which they have recently emerged in the form of dandies. What of the officer's discarding the distinction of his red coat? What of the universal abandonment by the beaux (to adopt a word of former ages which, probably, became obsolete with the thing it expressed) of all polite attention to the belles?-except, indeed, what is paid by a certain description of beaux to married belles.

" or

These changes our aeriform great-grandmothers, even whilst their "lucid squadrons waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold," may well deem of a nature to render their authors worthy of being, wedged in phials or transfixed with pins;" yet, weighed against the fearful alteration about to be mentioned, they are nothing.-This great, this tremendous innovation of modern audacity, like many other innovations, gradually, and, save to the experienced and watchful observer, imperceptibly gained ground, until, arriving at maturity, it exhibited a most formidable and radical appearance. The tutelary spirits must have beheld its progress with an indignation tempered only by the sentiments of pleasing admiration, awakened by some of the effects it produced, and the talents it developed in the reigning sovereigns of their former empire--for in this respect, the potentates of whom we are speaking, seem rather to differ from those earthly monarchs better known to us, who certainly are not conceived to find any very great satisfaction in admiring their successors. Pope ascribes to the sylphs, an anxious care for the prosperity of the living who occupy their vacated situations, and, indeed, it is not difficult to imagine, that death may occasion some difference in the feelings. The awful event which has been alluded to, is the alarming invasion of the dominions of fashion by the low-born, and the countervailing effects. Who can view, without delight and admiration, the energies, the multifarious resources, the genius, in short, displayed by the legitimate rulers in their defence?

If these fair creatures of the elements, are indeed still "wondrous fond of place," we may easily picture to ourselves, the disdainful displeasure with which they must, in the first instance, have regarded such unwarrantable presumption, and their progressive transition from scorn to disquietude and terror, as the enemy's forces have occasionally seemed to increase.

In the halcyon days commemorated in the "Rape of the Lock,” aristocracy enjoyed its pre-eminence, undisturbed, and almost unenvied. No mushroom monied interest ventured, even at humble distance, to ape the splendors or the follies of the nobility and gentry of the land. No wit, poet, painter, actor, musician, or critic, fancied his presence capable of conferring honour upon the highest circles. The wealthy citizen resided peaceably with his family, in St. Mary Axe, or Great St. Helen's, dined with his clerk upon his substantial joint, and, when he was extravagant, upon "two puddings;" never strayed into the west end of the town, unless sent by his fellow-citizens to represent them in Parliament, or to obtain and degrade the glories of chivalry, by offering a loyal address at the foot of the throne; and if needy courtiers did occasionally condescend to grace his board, in order to marry his heiress, they sought him in the depths of the city, where he received them with all due humility. The poet, if he penetrated beyond the anti-room, was permitted to do so only to present a laudatory dedication, which, if graciously received, was repaid with a moderate banknote, and he retired from the magnificent mansion of the peer in all lowliness of mind to his lofty habitation in Grub-street. Whilst the other humbler children of the Muse never even dreamt of obtruding themselves upon public notice, except in the exercise of their especial vocations. And thus, untroubled by any apprehension of intrusion upon their undisputed privileges, "the white-gloved beaux," and their hooped, starched, and powdered belles, danced, languished, and talked nonsense in happy security.

About the time when these fortunate ladies in "all their pride expired," the first symptoms of that spirit of insubordination and encroachment which has given birth to the mighty conflict, seem to have appeared, but, appearing like specks in the horizon, were probably viewed with equal contempt by the living, who, in their own persons or those of their offspring, were to" bide the pelting of the pitiless storm," and by their aerified predecessors. What, indeed, but contempt could be felt for a bungling, ungainly imitation of high life by the uneducated and unmannered! Who could apprehend danger from any combinations of such phenomena ! When the numbers of the imitators increased, and they acquired a sort of footing, the thing, though still ludicrous and despicable in the extreme, seemed worth crushing; but this was thought to be done easily, and injudicious measures were unfortunately adopted—a new proof, were any wanting, that the greatest general may suffer from too high a sense of his own superiority to his antagonist. In this first campaign, if such mere skirmishing may deserve the name, the nobles endeavoured to annihilate the upstarts by redoubled splendour. Alas! the sources of mercantile wealth proved less readily exhaustible than those of