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Nor sorrow frowned, nor cankered care,
For nought the heart concealed!
Oh still-oh still these early days
Come back in misty dream;

Though dimmed their warmer, holier rays,
Though shorn their brighter beam!
I yield not to the hand of Time

This sunshine of the heart;

Love, friendship, still in dreams are mine—
The spell shall ne'er depart !

And let the busy crowd pass on,
Or jostle me aside;

I mourn no joys or pleasures gone,
Nor vail my spirit's pride.
For still upon my heart remains
The bloom of virgin truth,
While Memory's faithful page retains
The cherished dream of youth!

can it now be seen with its true and original features, except occasionally in some small circle of intimate friends.

The CRACOVIENNE (Cracowiak) is a more lively dance, and though in its figure it resembles the former, it is simpler, and indicates a less advanced state of society. It is, however, not so easy, as each dancer must also become a poet, and sing a couple of extempore verses. The Cracovienne (as its name implies) is very much in vogue in the neighbourhood of Cracow. It will be at once perceived from this description that Fanny Elssler's very charming pas, styled "la Cracovienne," is in a great degree her own invention.

POLISH NATIONAL DANCES. Of these there are three-the PoLONAISE, the CRACOVIENNE, and the MAZURKA. The POLONAISE is adapted to every age and station. It breathes no passion, but seems to be a triumphal procession. The most distinguished person of the company takes the lead, and this is termed reywodzic, or acting as chief. Notwithstanding the respect which is paid to this leader, he may yet be deposed by one of the dancers exclaiming odbiianego(retaken by force). The leader then resigns the hand of his partner to the new pretender: each male dancer dances with the female of the couple next to him, so that the last in the order remains excluded, unless, by calling odbijanego The MAZUR, or MAZURKA, which in his turn, he places himself at the derives its name from the province head of the dance. As, however, of Mazovia, is perhaps the most nathe too frequent exercise of this pri- tional, as well as certainly one of the vilege would create confusion, two most graceful dances of Europe. means have been devised for averting Any young Pole in warlike costume, this evil. Either the leader inter- and distinguished for boldness and poses his authority and terminates amiability, soon becomes the hero of the dance, or the gentlemen, falling this dance. It is as eminently marback, leave the ladies in the middle tial as the two former, and allows a of the room, who continue dancing, still freer scope for acting, a suitable selecting their partners, and exclud- expression for the ancient Polish ing the disturbers of order. As the freedom. In familiar circles it is Polonaise is always accompanied by also accompanied by singing; and singing, it opens a field to improvvi- thus the Mazurka furnished to oral satori, who on such occasions poets the occasion for recording the usually celebrate the merits of some most remarkable events in the nadistinguished character, or queen of tional history. During the performbeauty. In our own times, Kosciusko ance of this dance was invented the was once thus honored. Foreigners celebrated war-cry, "Poland is not have perverted the peculiar character lost while we are living!" with which of this dance, and not even in Poland the Poles now advance to battle.

VOL. I.

BB

LAMARTINE'S INVOCATION.

WE are inclined to think this the most elegant poem which M. de Lamartine has ever produced, completely free as it is from the affectation, mystification, and fine-drawing, which are the great blemishes of his style. It forms the first of the Harmonies Poétiques et Religieuses which have not,

that we are aware of, been presented before to the English reader. In our translation we have endeavoured to be faithful, as well as spirited. It is scarcely possible, however, to imitate in English the exquisite melody of the original :

Toi qui donnas sa voix à l'oiseau de l'Aurore,
Pour chanter dans le ciel l'hymne naissant du jour ;
Toi qui donnas son âme et son gosier sonore

A l'oiseau que le soir entend gémir d'amour.

Toi qui dis aux forêts: répondez au zéphyre!
Aux ruisseaux: murmurez d'harmonieux accords;
Aux torrents: mugissez; à la brise: soupire;

A l'océan gémis, en mourant sur tes bords!
Et moi, Seigneur, aussi, pour chanter tes merveilles
Tu m'as donné dans l'âme une séconde voix,
Plus pure que la voix qui parle à nos oreilles,
Plus forte que les vents, les ondes, et les bois !
Les cieux l'appellent grace, et les hommes génie ;
C'est un souffle affaibli des bardes d'Israel,
Un écho dans mon sein, qui change en harmonie
Le retentissement de ce monde mortel.

Mais c'est surtout ton nom, ô roi de la nature !
Qui fait vibrer en moi cet instrument divin;
Quand j'invoque ce nom, mon cœur plein de murmure
Resonne comme un temple, où l'on chante sans fin !
Comme un temple rempli de voix et de prières,

Où d'échos en échos le son roule aux autels;

Eh quoi! Seigneur, ce bronze, et ce marbre, et ces pièrres
Retenteraient-ils mieux que le cœur des mortels?

Non, mon Dieu! non, mon Dieu! grâce a mon saint partage,
Je n'ai point entendu monter jamais vers toi
D'accords plus pénétrans, de plus divin langage
Que ces concerts muets qui s'élèvent en moi!

Thou who hast taught the minstrel of the morn

To sing the heav'nward hymn of opening day;
Thou of whom Philomel's sweet notes are born,
With all the soul that thrills her evening lay!
Who gav'st the voice that murmurs in the breeze,
Breathes music o'er the rivers and the woods,
Flows in the streamlet, whispers in the trees,
And sighs or thunders o'er the ocean floods!
To me, too, Mighty Father! hast thou given
An inward voice to tell thy wonders here-
Louder than winds that sweep the vault of heaven,
And purer far than visits mortal ear!

Men call it genius; grace 'tis named above-
The breath of Israel's bards-though faint in me;
Yet, swelling in my breast where'er I move,
Earth's rudest sounds it turns to harmony!

But chiefly, Lord! thy murmured name doth thrill
Each chord that forms this instrument divine;
Sweet melodies my heart with rapture fill,

And echo through my bosom, as a shrine!

Yes, like a shrine where music's mightiest lays
Are swelled and pealed, and echoing rolled along;
Shall stone, oh Lord! and bronze resound thy praise,
Nor human hearts partake the lofty song?

Ah, no; my God! no holier sounds can rise

Up to thy sapphire throne 'mid incense wreathing;
No tones more thrilling, though in simplest guise,
Than these mute harmonies within me breathing!

PRINCE GEORGE OF CUMBERLAND'S DILETTANTE PURSUIT OF MUSIC.-His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Hanover, has lately published a work, entitled "Ideen und Betrachtungen über die Eigenschaften der Musik" (ideas and views respecting the properties of music). It is characterised by great enthusiasm, and by the most ardent love of what he terms the "sublime

science."

"From my early youth," says Prince George, "I have applied myself with the most intense desire to make the science of music my study and amusement, and it has ever proved a most invaluable companion, as well as an unceasing comforter through life, from the variety of its inexhaustible ideas. The more I learned, the more closely its poetry wove itself around my soul. Music is a language of sounds-it speaks to us through all our thoughts and

M.

feelings." This passage is rendered
particularly affecting, when we con-
sider the melancholy privation to
which the Prince has been so long
subjected. By the way, it were well
if his amiable papa applied himself
to these innocent pursuits. "It is
an unpardonable offence," the prince
continues, "to consider this divine
science as a vehicle pour passer le
temps, a stimulus to the thoughtless
dance, or to be used as a subject of
conversation, in which a superficial
judgment is allowed to pass its deci-
sion, recklessly and without know-
ledge, instead of seeking what is
really to be found in this divine
science-
e-an improvement of the
finer feelings, consolation in afflic-
tion, and hope for futurity, with
truthful firmness in faith and in
love." The Prince has produced
several musical compositions of
merit.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

SHE sleeps where none can wake her,
No deceiver can be found

To flutter round her, then forsake her,
Beneath yon hallowed mound;

She sleeps the dreamless slumber-
The long and quiet sleep;

No night's dark hours for her to number,
No morn-to wake and weep!

Ere youth's first dawn had faded
On her fair and rounded cheek,
The clouds of early sorrow shaded
A spirit soft and meek:

As howls the storm at even,

Nor marks the rosebud's sigh,

So, breathing low a prayer to Heaven,
She bowed her head to die!

E. W.

OLD MAIDS-PRO AND CON."I am inclined to believe (says a lively writer) that many of the satirical aspersions cast upon old maids tell more in their credit than is generally imagined. Is a woman remarkably neat in her person, she will certainly die an old maid.' Is she particularly reserved towards the other sex, she has all the squeamishness of an old maid.' Is she

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frugal in her expenses, and exact in
her domestic concerns, she is cut
out for an old maid.' And if she is
kindly and humane to the animals
about her, nothing can save her from
the appellation of an 'old maid.' In
short, I have always found that
neatness, modesty, economy, and
humanity, are the never-failing cha-
racteristics of that terrible creature,
an old maid."

Young Maids beware, for Old Maids you are written,
If with the love of order too much smitten;

Of signs old-maidish there's a vast variety,

But, chief of these, stiff, starched, and strict propriety!
If you would wed, be not too clean-white-cappish,
Too fuming, fretting, touchy, testy, snappish;
Nor yet with virtues negative adorned-
Mechanic-creatures by the men-folk scorned;
If point your wishes tow'rds the parish steeple,
Be none of your "good, harmless kind of people;"
Be not 'bout morals, and the like, too barkish,
Be something rakish, and a little larkish!

PLEASING NOTIFICATION ΤΟ EPICURES.-A traveller, in whose veracity we place the utmost reliance, informs us that what are sold in this country for Reindeer tongues, are in almost every instance prepared in the North of Europe from donkeys! Will the veracity of our informant subdue the voracity of our readers?

Pourquoi le grand Chesterfield étoit il paresseux? Parcequ'il étoit trop polit (trop au lit).

E.

"TOE THEY FASHNIBBLE WURRELD.-Grand Fensy Bawl this hevenin at the Halbert Saloone, Theobald's Rode, hadmittens gents a shillin, ladys nine-pins dittoe's childer afproice. No pipes or Vitechapel rubitch hadmitted."

CON. BY MRS. DOCTOR CAUSTIC. -What are the most useful letters for a man of business? N. R. G. CON. BY SIR TICKELEM TENDER.- -When is a bed not a bed? When it is a little buggy.

ECCLESIASTICAL NET-WORK.
ONCE on a time a pious cardinal,
Whose soul was like a flow'ry garden all,
So decked with every sprout of virtue,
That, pull his nose, he wouldn't hurt you;
Upon his table every day

A fishing-net would fain display,

To every visitor recalling

His father's trade of lobster-thralling.

Now this humility mirifical

Soon raised him to the chair Pontifical;

And eke reposed a fisher's son,

Where first a fisher sat upon.

Next morning after consecration,

Unmindful of this change of station,

His flunky, less astute than bold,
Fixed net on table, as of old;

His Holiness, with anger flaming,

The flunky kicked down stairs, exclaiming:

"You goose-you dolt--you good-for-nought!
Why, don't you see the fish is caught?"

P.

On Prince Ernest knocking out his riding-whip two of his front teeth by a swing of

Some heroes rushing to the field,

Get wounds in martial strife;
But Ernest does a braver thing—
He maims himself for life!

The following billet-doux was despatched to His Serene Highness by the Princess Augusta of Cambridge,

upon this striking incident being made known to H. R. H.

I'd live with you, Ernest, a wigwam beneath,

For still you are handsome, in spite of your teeth!

To wage war on one's own mouth still more ridiculous when it occurs is a ridiculous thing enough, but in Ernest!

DANTE-A SONNET.

(From the Italian of Michael Angelo.)

No human tongue his eulogy can speak,-
Too brightly for our eyes his splendour glowed;
"Tis easier far his foes with scorn to load,
Than reach his lowest flight on pinions weak!
To earth he came, imbued with Truth and Hope,
To teach mankind: then up to God he soared,
And Heaven to him her lofty gates unbarred,
To whom his country her's refused to ope;
Ungrateful land! a treasure o'er all price,
Purblind rejecting! By Divine behest

The direst plague thus strikes the wisest-best;
And midst a thousand proofs let this suffice,

That, as his exile shall unequalled be,
So never yet was greater man than he!

N.

A TOURLOUROU FOR THE AUTHOR OF JACK SHEPPARD.

A JUVENILE devil *—and that which "Jack Sheppard"
Inculcates to youth,† for the gallows well peppered,

Together with that which the author is not,

United will show what his work is, I wot. §

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"Turpin Ainsworth" was the name by which the author of Jack Sheppard used to be known. But this was an error. Turpis Ainsworth" is the correct reading, as we find upon reference to Ainsworth's Dictionary of cant, slang, flash, and immorality, where turpis is said to signify any thing that is "base, low, and vulgar."

There's worth in Ainsworth's name-deuce knout him!
The only thing of worth about him!

Sheppard and his biographer are "both Arcadians," id est, &c. Sheppard is not without his flock, both of sheep and of wolves—of juvenile pickpockets and experienced cracksmen.

The Drama.

THE Easter performances at the various theatres are characterised by an improved taste in the fine arts, as well as in every thing else that conduces to the perfection of scenic illusion. At CoVENT GARDEN, a very brilliant spectacle has been manufactured out of an

ancient nursery tale; and amongst the various revivals to which the management of this theatre is almost entirely limited, we have to record with praise the performance of Arthur Murphy's Know Your Own Mind-the only modern comedy in the English language

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