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Bach, Handel (whose “ Israel” was com- and the situations to be portrayed, as to justi

, pleted in three weeks), Haydn (more of fy musical annalists in giving the Master & whose compositions are lost than live), Mo- high place in the records of his time; and zart, -all men remarkable as discoverers in sincerely regretting his loss. Would and renowned as classics-held the dens of that any signs could be discerned of a sucready writers. Rossini's “11 'Barbiere,” | cessor! But, for the present, the solitary again, which has now kept the stage for originality which Italian musicians manifest two-and-thirty years, was the work of lies in excess and exaggeration. thirteen days: the insouciant composer being spurred to his utmost by a disparaging letter from Paisiello, who had already set A Scottish SPORTSMAN.-The Inverness Jouir. Beaumarchais' comedy. It was the empty nal copies from the Cape Frontier Times of FebruConnoisseur, who thought to gain reputa- ary 22, an account of the sporting exploits of a Mr.

-, the second son of a northern baronet (whose tion by declaring that the picture would name, put forward for distinction by the Scotch have been better painted if the painter bad paper, we suppress in mercy to the hero, because we taken more trouble.” Nor will it ever be gather a different moral from his deeds); which exforgotten that the “ Bride of Lammer-petuation in Africa of that skill which the Scottish

ploits are, with evident pride, described as the permoor,” the masterpiece of Walter Scott gentleman acquires from his pursuits at home. In (whose defence of fertility, apropos of Dry- a journey of eleven months, during which he is den, might have been quoted as germane to represented to have penetrated many hundred miles the matter), was thrown off when the No- beyond the highest point previously reached by any

white man, this chivalrous and intrepid Scoi shot velist was hardly conscious of what he forty-three elephants and sixiy hippopotami, “the finest wrote, owing to racking bodily pain. Those, troops to which they belonged having been singled we believe, on whom the gift of fertility has out for slaughter." “The rhinoceros, buffalo, been bestowed, run some danger of becom- buck, bartebeest, sasaby, black and blue wildbeest,

cameleopard, elaud, gemsbok, roan, antelope, watering “ nothing if not fertile." Their minds koodoo, pallah, zebra, rietbok, kilpspringer, &c., are impulsive rather than thoughtful—their were tound by him in such abundance ihat he rarely fancies strengthened by the very process expended his ammunition upon them, except when in

want of the flesh, or to get their heals as specimens to and passion of pouring them forth. In the grace his collection of sporting trophics—which is decase of Donizetti, at least, it is obvious that scribed as being now so extensive as almost to rehis invention was, year by year, becoming quire a small ship to send them home.” It appears fresher with incessant use and practice.

that this gentleman has “had losses,” too, in the

course of his brilliant campaign of extermination, There are no melodies in any of his early and that the victims of his thirst for sporting fame works so delicious as those of the quartett did not suffer themselves to be massacred for his and serenade in “Don Pasquale;” no glory without some attempt at resistance and retaliwriting so highly toned, characteristic, and ation. To the reckoning of this gentleman's hu

manity should be added in fairness a large amount dramatic as the entire fourth act of “ La of incidental slaughter which is not formally insisted Favorite." His instrumentation too, al- on by his panegyrist as among the proofs of "the ways correct, became richer and more fanci- excellence of his sport.” “He has lost all his horses ful in each successive effort. It has else- 15), all his oxen (30), and all his dogs (20), and his

best wagon-driver. His horses were killed either by where been remarked (and the remark is lions or horse sickness, and the fly called txetse. All significant to all who are used to consider his oxen were killed by this insect. His dogs were the subject), that, considering Donizetti killed, some by the lions, some by the panther, crowas called to write for particular singers, an driver was carried off on

codile, and by different kinds of game. The wagon

dark and cloudy evening unusual nuuber of the Operas thus fashion- by a monster lion,—which Mr. Cumming shot next ed to order have become stock pieces: day.” This is a very imposing bulletin—well dethereby preved to be essentially superior to serving the notice of the Society for the Suppression

of Cruelly to Animals. We suppose, from the trithe generality of works of their class. In umphant tone of the record, that this gentleman's short, it may be said that, though there be place in Scottish society will be a high one :-bat no startling beauties in the Operas of Doni- we confess we have some difficulty in fancying the zetti, -none of those electrical melodies hero “ at good men's feasts,” enjoying the gentle which, like “ Di tanti,” or “ Largo al fac- faces of children. We should be unwilling to see

ministry of women, or looking into the smiling totum,' Assisa al pie d'un salice,” his rifle by our bearth. It has been said that exring through the world, -neither such in- tremes meel; and it is true that many of the exprestensity of sentiment as reconciles us to the what we should consider characteristics of ibe sa

sions of a very high civilization resemble greatly very limited alphabet in which Bellini vage. The American Indian who counted fame by wrote,—they contain so much of what is scalps, and the man of Borneo who still counts it by agreeable, so many happy combinations and lıhe heads which he takes, seem to us to be morally excellent opportunities for vocal display,

the near neighbor of him wbose title to reputation

the shipload of carcases which his rifle has made. such frequent harmony between the sounds) - Athendum.


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A sick’ning weight is on my heart ; 1 feel They are come, they are come; yet what brings The enrrent of wy life is ebbing fast.

them here, Hark! from the minster comes the midnight peal— With smoke around, and with walls so near? When next it sounds my sorrows shall have Yet there they cling to the golden wand, pass'd!

As there were no sunnier garden beyond. The chillness of the grave already clings

The garden is fi'led with their drowsy hum! About my limbs--and uncouth shapes of fear

Oh, where is a hive, for the bees are come ? Throng up around me—and. on ebon wings, Death's dull-eyed king himself is hov'ring near. Whence have they wander'd ? I cannot tell,

But I dream'd me a dream of some lonely dell, Was it for this I curb'd the lightsome play

Where violets thick 'mid the green grass sprung, Of youth's high passions—its unburden'd mind? Like a purple cloak by a monarch flung. Was it for this i Aung its joys away?

Our garden now fills with their drowsy And when the throes of wild ambition pined,

hum! Why did I learniog's volvined stores unclasp,

Oh, where is a hive, for the bees are come ?
Why with rack'd brow pursue the cbase for truth,
To see it ever fy my toilsome grasp,
Myself grown old amidst the wreck of youth?

Had they grown weary of roses in bloom,
Or the long falling wreaths of the yellow-hair'd

bruoin? A creeping stillness fills my lonely room,

Of the seringa's pale, orange-toucbed flowers,
No voice, no hand its palm in mine to place!
Vainly I strive amid the deep’ning gloom

of the gardens afar, that they wander to ours?

How pleasant it is with their drowsy hum ! To catch the light of one familiar face.

Oh, where is a hive, for the bees are come ? Visions there are that hover by my side, Strewing my restless pillow with annoy:

Our garden is somewhat pale and lone, My father weeping for his hope, his pride

And the walls are high, with ivy o'ergrown; My mother wailing for her dark-hair'd boy.

And the dust of the city lies dark on the rose,

And the lily is almost afraid to unclose. My sister-my sweet sister's clear, glad voice,

Yet welcome the sound of their drowsy As last I heard it fill the sunny air,

hum! Is sounding near; and she, my bosom's choice,

Oh, where is a hive, for the bees are come ? The haliow'd idol of my soul, is there; And yet mayhap, ibis very hour, her heart The vapors of London float over our head, Bounds to the music of its own delight,

Yet ath wart them the shower and the sunshine are Framing new joys, in which I bear a part

shed; Joys all, alas, too fair and overbright!

And cheerful the light of the morning falls

O'er the almond-tree and the ivied walls. Oh, might I dream away into my rest,

Sweet sounds around it the drowsy hum! Might lay my fever'd temples, all thrown bare,

Ob, where is a hive, for the bees are comc 1 To sleep upon her gently heaving breast,

And shade them with her folds of clust'ring hairTo feel her arms about my neck-her kiss

We have shrubs that have flourished the summer Warming my clay-cold cheek—to catch her

through breath

The jessa mine hanging like pearls on dew, Whisp'ring kind words, meet for a time like this,

The fuschia that droops, like the curls of a brideMight scare the horror of this drowsy death!

Bells of coral, with Syrian purple inside ;

They'll grow more fair with that drowsy But I am here alone—all, all alone ;

hum ! None n-ar that loves me, none that I can prize;

Oh, where is a hive, for the bees are come !
Strange voices o'er my tuneless sleep shall moan,
And strangers' loveless hands shall close mine The sun-flower's golden round shall yield

Its shining store for their harvest field;
How drear and dark it grows! My faithful lamp, We'll plant wild thyme with the April rain,

Burn yet a little while—'twill soon be o'er. And feed them till then on the sugar-cane.
What means this shudd'ring dread—these dews so Welcome, welcome, their druwsy hum!

Oh, where is a hive, for the bees are come ? T'his chill all here about my heart ?—No more!

L. E. L.

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The Airs we breathe are made of human sighs,- Oh! doth it not soothe the worn mind to depart
The Streams we drink do spring from human tears; From traffic's rude clamor, from Mammon's vast
We gaze but on the Light of our own eyes,- ,

mart, -
And the Soul's voice is all the Spirit hears. To pass from the city, its tumult and din,

And linger this spot of soft quiet within ? Nought in the world of jovaunce or of griei, The spirit grows weary and sad, 10 abide Of sin or triumph or vicissitude,

In the stirring excitement of life's rapid tide, But froin the Mind o'erflows, for its relief,

And feels those enjoyments the purest and best, Its house, its habit, like itself endued.

Connected with scenes of retirement and rest.
The glorious Universe-of suns and moons, Yes, here to our view are the dwellings displayed,
Of starry systems radiant and obscure-

Provided by kiadly and liberal aid,
O Day and Night! what are ye but the runes The troubles to lighten, the cares to assuage,
Writ on the rlıythmic mind's entablature ? That cast a dim gloom over the season of age;

Their inmates, removed from the world's busy strife, Were it not so, I were indeed alone,

Here, pass in calm leisure the evening of life; Unclad, unroofed a solitary thing;

And feel, that as hope's early vision declines, I make the sympathy that heeds my moan, The hope of the future more cloudlessly shines. And Nature travails with my suffering.

And here d ells the pastor, whose wisdom imparts Henee, deeply thank I that Poetic Soul

The gospel of truth and of grace to their hearts; Which will not leave me wholly desolate,

A privilege holy and precious is theirs, But writes for me the Heavens like a scroll Possessing his counsels, his presence, his prayers ; Where I may read the story of my fate:

He leads them that knowledge of God to attain,

To which man's highest knowledge is worthless And now, though in the wilderness I stray,

and vain, Finds me companions in the sands ( tread, - And wins them to dwell on a kingdom above, And though far wandered from my friends away, With the fervor of faith, and the kindness of love. Renews, or substitutes, the Lost, the Dead. Yet still I yearn for what is less a dream,I would embrace another Soul than mine; I would that Truth should be, not only seem, Substantial Truth-or human or divine !


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Her presence shed a happy hue

The bridal veil is on thy hair,

The wreath is on thy brow,
Thy vows are breathed-why, dearest, wear

Á look of sadness now?
Say, dost thou tremble to remove

or sunshine over every heart, But something in her beauty drew

From her familiar looks a part.

From friends long tried and known? Oh! doubt me not-my fervent love

Shall far surpass their own; My tender care shall never sleep,

Still shall I prove thy friend and guide:
One lot is oursehen wherefore weep,

My loved, my gentle bride ?
Love shall direct my faithful breast,

Thy wishes to prevent;
Or, if a wish be half expressed,

To crown it with content:
The friendships of thy early youth

May lessen and decline,
But Time, which weakens others' truth,

Shall only strengthen mine.
Thy future way is strewed with flowers,

Then let those timid tears be dried,
And smiles succeed the April showers-

My loved, my gentle bride !

She brought wild flowers of radiance bright,

Fresh with dews, by breezes fanned;
Fruits that had ripened in the light

Of some more genial, sunny land.

These treasures of an unknown shore

She gave—the fruiis, the flowers, to someTo youth, to age-each of them bore

His faëry blessing back to home.

Thus every guest was welcomed by

This maiden, with a peerless gem;
But when a loving pair drew nigh

Her choicest gifis were showered on them


A CONVERSATION ABOUT CORILLA.—The cor- Her renown rapidly spread throughout Italy; and respondent of the Athenæum, in describing a con- we find her visiting Boligna, Modena, Parma, and versation with the venerable Prof. Rossini, of the Venice,-and everyw ere reaping fresh laurels and University of Pisa, thus notices this celebrated cha- praises from princes and potentates of all sorts. racter:

of the worthy Signor Fernandez we hear nothing Alter a little chat about the great dramatist, Al- wbatever the while. It is to be supposed t) at, like a firere, we fell to talking about Byron's séjour at Pisa. good bird, he stayed at home to keep the nest warm. The professor knew bim well, and seemed to have in 1765, his gifted spouse went to Inspruck, at the inseen a good deal of him. He recounted at length vitation of Maria Theresa, "per cantare le nozze di the story of the assassination which led to Byron's Maria Luiguia di Borbone" with Pietro Leopoldo. being obliged to quit Pisa, and which has been so On her return from Germany, loaded with honors and often and so differently related. His impression is presents of all sorts, she was made" reale poetesse” -and it seems clear enough-that Byron did not (a royal i.e. not a real, poetess, gentle reader), with deserve the least blame in the matter. The deed à pension from the Grand Duke of Tuscany. arose from the mis judging zeal of an Italian ser. In 1775, we find her once more at Rome, -where vant, who thought that his master would of course be she became at once the passion of the “Arcadi." well pleased to have an insull so avenged.

These gentle shepherds' named her one of their "Your recollections of that peried must include "pastorelle," and gave her the Arcadian name of Shelley also,” said I.

Corilla Olympica, by which she was ever after “Sicuro!" answered the Professor briskly, “mi known. "'This honor,” says the historian, “she, deve ancora venti paolis.” He then explained that merited by two accademie, in which she treated this debt of twenty pauls, or abuut nine shillings, twelve subjects in various ancient metres with exhad been contracted by Shelley one day, as he was quisite poetical beauty, profound learning, and such walking, asking him for thai sum to give away, rapidity that Nardini the professor, who accompa. and that it had afterwards escaped his meinory: nied her on the violin, was not able to keep up with He went on to remark that Shelley" had no beard, her," —con tanta velocità che dicono non averla potuta and a voice like a woman.” He said that every seguitare il Nardini, professore di riolini, che con body loved him.

quello strumento l'accompagnava. In the following From Byron, Shelley, and "Tre-la-ouni," their year she was crowned at the Capitol, on the 31st of riding parties and their escapades, the conversation, August, 1776, after a fresh cxhibition of improvijumping a huge gulf of years, persons and associa- sation" su temi filosofici e teologici.” This was the tions, lighted on the once celebrated Corilla ;- culminating point of ber glory. Cardinals, princes, whose story, curiously characteristic as it is of lial, and prelates vied in feting her ; poets froin all parts ian manners and society some sixty years since, I of Italy poured in their tribute of incense—“ Mille should perhaps have deemed hardly worthy of oc- poeti concorsero a cantarne arcadicomente le lodi.cupying your space were it not that it seems highly Bul in the midst of all this glory, as is usually the probable that she was the prototype of De Staëls case, it began to appear to some that the Roman Corinue, -or at least that she suggested to the Swiss world were disproportionately lavish of applause to anthoress such a character as illustrative of Italian a lady who had after all but made some tolerably life and society.

melodious verses.—such as hundreds of others Corilla died at sixty, in the year 1800. She must could make in any desired, or rather undesired, therefore have been an old woman, near the end of quantity. This tone once taken, the revulsion is her brilliant career, when Rossini knew her among generally violent. The ridicule of the thing was the frequenters of La Febroni's saloon, her real felt, and poor Corilla (tell it not in Arcady) was name was Maddalena Morelli, -and by marriage laughed at. Old Pasquin took up the cudgels, with a Spaniard in the employment of ihe govern lampuons rained fast and thick, and Corilla lett ment at Naples, Maddalena Fernandez. She was Rome,-io no want, however, of an honored asylure. born at Pistoja, of parents in humble circumstances; For Paul the First and Catherine the second of Rusand was adopted for the sake of her beauty and pre- sia invited and pensioned her. Joseph the second of cocious talents by the Princess Columbrano, who Austria invited her to his capital. But she preferlook her to Naples, wher, she married. Her viva- red Florence; where she seems to have passed the city, beauty and talents, especially that for improvi- remainder of her liie, admired, honored, and belovsation, made her at once" ihe rage" at Naples. ed, in the enjoyment of æsthetic eau sucrée (an Italian Countessa would in those days as soon have derstand the boon which Mr. Lane has conferred thought of giving her guests rhubarb as tea), and in upon them? The common notion of welcoming a the coui teous. interchange of those Arcadian lauda- book is, taking a single copy; or five, or ten copies. tions and literary insipidities which were so much Is this what will be done in the case of ihis rare book, then in vogue.

which it is certain the public will never buy? One Have I taken up too much of your space with of the European powers understands the matter betpoor Corilla ? She is a characteristic excerpst from ter than this; understands too that tokens of apprea social system which existed and can never exist ciation should be given so timely as that they may again,--and, as such, is as worthy perhaps of being cheer the toils of the laborer, and assure him that he preserved in your amber as any other fly.

is not working in vain. The king of Prussia has

been first, as usual, tu give encouragement. Since SUPPOSED RELIC OF THE Great PLAGUE OF Lon. my return I hear he has sent a commissioner to DON.-On Saturday last, during the progress of an Egypt, by way of London, to make arrangements excavation in Union-sireet, Southwark, between for the establishment and diffusion of the work. I High street and Redcross street, for the formation of rejoice at this; but I feel some shame that a foreign a main sewer, about three feet below the surface of government should first have the honor-after the the roadway the workmen came upon a compact Duke of Northumberland- of welcoming and fostermass of human skeletons, all lying in perfect regu- ing the work of an English scholar.- Miss Martilarity and entirely free from any admixture of ihe neau's Eastern Life. surrounding earth, or remains of coffins; and these skeletons where piled one on the other to the depth MR. Emerson's LECTURE.—Mr. Emerson, the of ten feet, covering an area of 260 square feet. lecturer from Massachusetts, is delivering a course The workmen cut their way with pickaxe and of three lectures at Exeter Hall, the proceeds of shovel through this stralum of the last vestiges of which are to go in aid of the early.closing movehumanity, and upwards of three or four cartloads of ment. This is a movement peculiarly marked with bones were thrown into the public thoroughfares. the character of the times, -one of whose grand This desecration of the dead caused observation, and distinctions it is to bave at length recognized the the assistance of the police had to be obtained to general and unprerogatived man as something more protect the remains, some persons from the Mint than a mere machine out of which it is social ecohaving endeavored to sell the bones at the marine- nomy to get all possible working power. It is a store shops. At a late hour on Saturday the paro- truth which evaded the “wisdom of many worthy chial officers of St. Savior's, Southwark, caused the men among "our ancestors,” now-to the world's remains that had been dug up'o be removed to the great gain;

gone to their graves, that bebind the counparish churchyard for interment, and on Sunday ter and in the workshop ihrobbed human hearts, and the excavation was covered over, io screen it from that the men who measure tape and weigh sugar and public view. Considerable excitement prevails from ply the needle had intellects ; not to speak it prufanely fear of contagion, it having been ascertained that -as worthy of cultivation as their own. As for the this spot was used to bury the dead during the great good of the world, so is it for their own, that these plague in London. On Sunday night several cart- excellent persons have taken refuge from the docIoads were piled up in Union-street, and still more trines now walking the earth in the shadow of their remain to be dug up. It is calculated that at the immemorial escutcheons; for, what they would have very least there are the remains of from 500 to 600 done abroad in a world of reading shopmen and persons.-Britannia.

mechanics—of toil, like “ leisure," taking its plea

sure “in trim gardens," &c., we know not. The Mr. Lane's ARABIC LEXICON.-It is well known dangerous doctrine that mind is not the incident of to Oriental scholars that no good Arabic Lexicon rank would have greatly troubled their digestion. exists; and perba none but men ot' learning can The lights of these revolutionary times would have fully understand how important it is to the world been too strong for their vision. To the honor of that it should have a good Arabic Lexicon; but it that class of believers, however,—who have left here is evident enough to ordinary people that it is of and there a single survivor to represent them at the consequence to our knowledge of history and ancourt of the "coming man” and haunt the new era cient literature to have as good a key as can be like an anachronisin-it should be recorded that found in the treasures of Arabic literature. There they bore their taculties meekly; exercising their are, in the Mosques of Cairo, materials essential prerogative of thought as little as might be, and not to the formation of a perfect Lexicon which can be much intruding the wisdom wbich, like their old had nowhere else ; these MSS. are crumbling to parchments, grew musly foi wanı of air. But the pieces so fast that, if not used now, tbey will be lost day of monopolies is passing away. The franchise for ever; and Mr. Lane is the only competent man of thought is made universal:-and the Early-closwho has access to these materials. He saw the im- ing Association purposes to help the busy populaportance of the object, felt the pressure of time, knew tion of the metropolis to the means of exercising it. that he was the man for the woik, and therefore For their objects Mr. Emerson lectured on “Napo devoted himself to it, in a generous negligence of leon;" and will lecture on Wednesday next on “Do his personal interests. He gave up a good literary mestic Life,” and on Saturday on “ Shakspeare,"income in Loudon, the comforts of an English home, a daring thinker even in the day of privilege.and the society of family and friends, and went to

Atheneum. live at Cairo, working, to the injury of his health, at an unremunerative labor which he well knew TESTIMONIAL TO THOM.—The fund subscribing the world would be slow to appreciate. And there for the destitute family of the poet Thom amounts he toils, day by day, with his sheikh, poring over now, we are glad to see, to a sum or 2001.-includthe old MÁS., which can scarcely be touched with ing a donation of 204 from the Literary Fund. In out falling to pieces. And there he must toil for two London, the Caledonian Society have formed a years more, till his work is finished. And what committee in its aid ;-and it is hoped to carry the Dext? How will our Universities, and the Govern- subscription at least to the amount of 3001. ment, and the India Company, show that they un

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