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Tabitha. Nay, they mocked and dee, ed at us, as we Hobson's wife had many pyes in the oven, sulg the Psalm the last Sunday night.
one of his servants had stole one of them Cutter. That was that mungrel Rhymer ; by this
out, and at the tauerne had merrilie eat it. light he envies his brother poet John Sternhold, be
It fortuned, the same day, that some of his cause he cannot reach his heights
friends dined with him, and one of the Doggrell (reciting his own verses.) Thus pride dcth
best pyes were missing, the stealer thereof, still with beauty dwell,
after dinner, he found out in this manner. And like the Baltic ocean swell.
He called all his servants in friendly sort Blode. Why the Baltic, Doggrell ?
together into the hall, and caused each of Doggrell. Why the Baltic !--this 'tis not to leave
thein to drinke one to another, both wine, read the Poets. She looks like Niobe on the mountain's top.
ale, and beare, till they were all drunke; Cutter. That Niobe, Doggrell, you have used worso
then caused hee a table to be furnished than Phæbus did. Not a dog looks melancholy but
with very goode cheare, whereat hee likehe's compared to Niobe. He beat a villainous Tapster
wise pleased them. Being set altogether, 'tother day, to make him look like Niobe.
he saide, “Why sit ye not downe fellows ?" C. L. -“ We bee set already," quoth they:
Nay," quoth Maister Hobson, " he that A:NCIENT WAGGERY.
stole the pye is not yet set.”—“Yes, that
I doe !" quoth he that stole it, by which For the Table Book.
means Maister Hobson knewe what was (From the “ Pleasant Conceits of old Hob- become of the pye; for the poor fellowe
son, the merry Londoner; full of hu- being drunke could not keepe his owne mourous Discourses and merry Merri- secretis.
ments :-1607.”] How Maister Hobson hung out a lanterne
THE FIRST VIOLET. and candlelight.
The spring is come : the violet's gone, In the beginning of queen Elizabeth's
The first-born child of the early sun; reign, when the order of hanging out lan
With us she is but a winter flower, terne and candlelight first of all was brought The snow on the hills canuot blast her bowerup,* the bedell of the warde where Maister And she lifts up her bead of dewy blae Hobson dwelt, in a dark evening, crieing To the youngest sky of the self-same hue. up and down, “ Hang out your lanternes !
And when the spring comes with her host Hang out your lanternes !" using no other
Or howers-that flower beloved the most, wordes, Maister Hobson tooke an emptie
Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse lanterne, and, according to the bedells call,
Her heavenly odour and virgin hues. hung it out. This flout, by the lord mayor, was taken in ill part, and for the same Pluck the others, but still remember offence Hobson was sent to the Counter,
Their herald out of dim Decemberbut being released, the next night follow
The morning star of all the lowers, ing, thinking to amend his call, the bedell
The pledge of daylight's lengthened hours,
Nor, midst the roses, e'er forget cryed out, with a loud voice, “ Hang out your lanternes and candle !" Maister Hob
The virgin-virgin violet. son, hereupon, hung out a lanterne and candle unlighted, as the bedell again com
YORKSHIRE SAYING. manded; whereupon he was sent again to the Counter; but the next night, the bedell
For the Table Book, being better advised, cryed Hang out
« Let's BEGIN
AGAIN LIKE THE CLERK your lanterne and candle light! Hang out
OF BEESTON." your lanterne and candle light !" which Maister Hobson at last did, to his great
The clerk of Beeston, a small village commendations, which cry of lanterne and
near Leeds, one Sunday, after having sung candle light is in right manner used to a psalm about half way through the first this day.
verse, discovered he had chosen a wrong
tune, on which he exclaimed to the singers, How Maister Hobson found out the Pye “Stop lads, we've got into a wrong. metre, stealer,
let's begin again!" Hence the origin of
the saying, so common in Leeds and the In Christmas Holy-dayes when Maister neighbourhood, “ Let's begin again, like
the clerk of Beeston." The custom of hanging out lanterns before lamps were ip use was earlier than queen Elizabeth's reiga.
T. Q. M.
canto improvviso. On approaching the shop of Trapassi, whence the melody proceeded,
they were surprised to see a lovely boy Spark of pure celestial fire,
pouring forth elegant verses on the persons Port of all the world's desire,
and objects which surrounded him, and Paradise of earthly bliss,
their admiration was increased by the Heaven of the other world and this;
graceful compliments which he took an Tell me, where thy court abides,
opportunity of addressing to themselves. Where thy glorious chariot rides?
When the youthful poet had concluded,
Gravina called him to him, and, with many II.
encomiums and caresses, offered him a Eden knew thee for a day,
piece of money, which the boy politely do. But thou wouldst no longer stay;
clined. He then inquired into his situation Outed for poor Adam's sin,
and employment, and being struck with the By a flaming cherubin ;
intelligence of his replies, proposed to his Yet thou lov'st that happy shade
parents to educate him as his own child. Where thy beauteous form was made,
They consented, and Gravina changed his And thy kindness still remains
name from Trapassi to Metastasio, and gave To the woods, and How'ry plains.
him a careful and excellent education for
his own profession. III.
At fourteen years of age, Metastasin Happy David found thee there,
produced his tragedy of “ Giustino,” which Sporting in the open air ;
so pleased Gravina, that he took him tɔ As he led his flocks along,
Naples, where he contended with and ex. Feeding on his rural song :
celled some of the most celebrated improBut when courts and honours had
visatori of Italy. He still, however, conSnatch'd away the lovely lad,
tinued his study of the law, and with a Thou that there no room cou'dst End,
view to the only two channels of preferLet him go and staid behind.
ment which prevail at Rome, also assumed the minor order of priesthood, whence his
title of abate. In 1718, death deprived His wise son, with care and pain,
him of his patron, who bequeathed to him Search'd all nature's frame in vain ;
the whole of his personal property, amountFor a while content to be,
ing to fifteen thousand crowns. Of too Search'd it round, but found not thee;
liberal and hospitable a disposition, he Beauty own'd she knew thee not,
gradually made away with this provision Plenty had thy name forgot:
and then resolved to apply more closely to Music only did aver,
the law. He repaired to Naples, to study for Once you came and danc'd with her..
that purpose, but becoming acquainted with Brugnatelli, usually called “the Romanina," the most celebrated actress and singer in
Italy, he gave himself up entirely to harBiography.
mony and poetry. The extraordinary suc
cess of his hrst opera, “ Gli Orti Esperidi,” PIETRE METASTASIO. confirmed bim in this resolution, and joining
his establishment to that of “ the Romani. This celebrated Italian lyric and dra and her husband, in a short time he matic poet was born at Rome, in 1698, of composed three new dramas, “ Cato in parents in humble life, whose names were Utica," “ Ezio,” and “Semiramide.” He Trapassi. At ten years of age, he was dis followed these with several more of still tinguished by his talents as an improvvisa greater celebrity, until, in 1730, he received tore. The eminent jurist, Gravina, who and accepted an invitation from the court amused himself with writing bad tragedies, of Vienna, to take up his residence in that was walking near the Campus Martius one capitai, as coadjutor to the imperial laureate, summer's evening, in company with the Apostolo Zeno, whom he ultimately sucabbé Lorenzini, when they heard a sweet ceeded. From that period, the life of and powerful voice, modulating verses with Metastasio presented a calm uniformity for the greatest fluency to the measure of the upwards of half a century. He retained
the favour of the imperial family undimi
nished, for his extraordinary talents were • From Dupton's " Athenian Sport."
adın:rably seconded by the even tcnor of
his private character, and avoidance of wishing to learn its language; that he had court intrigue. Indefatigable as a poet, he never given more than five guineas English composed no less than twenty-six operas, nuoney in all that time to the poor; that he and eight oratorios, or sacred dramas, be- always sat in the same seat at church, but sides cantatas, canzoni, sonnets, and minor never paid for it, and that nobody dared pieces to a great amount. The poetical ask him for the trifling sum; that he was characteristics of Metastasio are sweetness, grateful and beneficent to the friends who correctness, purity, simplicity, gentle pathos, began by being his protectors, but who, in and refined and elevated sentiment. There the end, were his debtors, for solid benefits is less of nature than of elegance and beauty as well as for elegant presents, which it was in his dramas, which consequently appear
his delight to be perpetually making. He insipid to those who have been nourished left to them at last all he had ever gained, with stronger poetic aliment.
without the charge even of a single legacy; Dr. Burney, who saw Metastasio at the observing in his will, that it was to them age of seventy-two, describes him as look. he owed it, and that other conduct would ing like one of fifty, and as the gayest and in him have been injustice. handsomest man, of his time of life, he had changed the fashion of his wig, or the cut ever beheld. He died after a short illness or colour of his coat, so that his portrait, at Vienna, in April 1782, having completed taken not very long ago, looks like those of his eighty-fourth year, leaving a consider Boileau or Moliere at the head of their able property in money, books, and valua works. His life was arranged with such bles. Besides his numerous works, which methodical exactness, that he rose, studied, have been translated into most of the Euro- chatted, slept, and dined, at the same hours, pean languages, a large collection of his for fifty years together, enjoying uninterletters, published since his death, supplied rupted health, which probably gave him copious materials for his biography.* that happy sweetness of temper, or habitual
gentleness of manners, which was never ruffled, except when his sole injunction was
forgotten, and the death of any person Mrs. Piozzi gives an amusing account of whatever was unwittingly mentioned before Metastasio in his latter days. She says:
him. No solicitation had ever prevailed on * Here (at Vienna) are many ladies of him to dine from home, nor had his nearest fashion very eminent for their musical abili- intimates ever seen him eat more than a ties, particularly mesdemoiselles de Marti- biscuit with his lemonade, every meal being nas, one of whom is member of the acade- performed with even mysterious privacy to mies of Berlin and Bologna : the celebrated
ihe last. When his end approached by Metastasio died in their house, after having rapid steps, he did not in the least suspect lived with the family sixty-five years more
that it was coming; and mademoiselle or less. They set his poetry and sing it. Martinas has scarcely yet done rejoicing in very finely, appearing to recollect his con the thought that he escaped the preparations versation and friendship with infinite ten he so dreaded. Latterly, all his pleasures derness and delight. He was to have been were confined to music and conversation ; presented to the pope the very day he died, and the delight he took in hearing the lady and in the delirium which immediately he lived with sing his songs, was visible to preceded dissolution, raved much of the every one. An Italian abate here said, supposed interview. Unwilling to hear of comically enough, 'Oh! he always looked death, no one was ever permitted to men
like a man in the state of beatification tion it before him; and nothing put him so
when mademoiselle de Martinas accomcertainly out of humour, as finding that panied his verses with her fine voice and rule transgressed. Even the small-pox was brilliant finger. The father of Metastasio not to be named in his presence, and who was a goldsmith at Rome, but his son had ever did naine that disorder, though uncon so devoted himself to the family he lived scious of the offence he had given, Metas- with, that he refused to hear, and took tasio would see no more.”
pains not to know, whether he had in his Mrs. Piozzi adds, " The other peculiari- latter days any one relation left in the ties I could gather from Miss Martinas
world." were these : that he had contentedly lived
We have a life of Metastasio, chietly dehalf a century at Vienna, without ever even
rived from his correspondence, by Dr. Burney.
. (ederal Brog. Dict. Dict. of Musicians.
be reserved to be sung on Christmas Night, IN A LETTER TO R. H. Esq. OF B
which we always passed with him, and he
sang it with the freshness of an impending For the Table Book.
How his eyes would sparkle when
he came to the passage : I called upon you this morning, and
We'll still make 'em run, and we'll still make 'em found that you were gone to visit a dying
sweat, friend. I had been upon a like errand. Poor N. R. has lain dying now for almost a
In spite of the devil and Brussels' Gazette ! week; such is the penalty we pay for having What is the Brussels' Gazette now? I cry, enjoyed through life strong constitution. while I endite these trifles. His poor girls Whether he knew me or not, I know not, who are, I believe, compact of solid goodor whether he saw me through his poor ness, will have to receive their afflicted glazed eyes; but the group I saw about mother at an unsuccessful home in a petty him I shall not forget. Upon the bed, or village in --shire, where for years they about it, were assembled his Wife, their have been struggling to raise a Girls' School two Daughters, and poor deaf Robert, with no effect. Poor deaf Robert (and the looking doubly stupified. There they were, less hopeful for being so) is thrown upon a and seemed to have been sitting all the deaf world, without the comfort to his week. I could only reach out a hand to father on his death-bed of knowing hiin Mrs. R. Speaking was impossible in that provided for. They are left almost promute chamber. By this time it must be all visionless. Some life assurance there is; over with him. In him I have a loss the but, I fear, not exceeding Their hopes world cannot make up. He was my friend, must be from your Corporation, which their and my father's friend, for all the life that I father has served for fifty years. Who or can remember. I seem to have made what are your Leading Members now,
I foolish friendships since. Those are the know not. Is there any, to whom without friendships, which outlast a second genera- impertinence you can represent the true tion. oid as I am getting, in his eyes I circumstances of the family? You cannot was still the child he knew me. To the say good enough of poor R., and his poor last he called me Jemmy. I have none to Wife. Oblige me, and the dead, if you call me Jemmy now. He was the last link that bound me to B- You are but of London, 10 Feb. 1827.
L. yesterday. In him I seem to have lost the old plainness of manners and singleness of heart. Lettered he was not; his reading
LINES scarcely exceeding the Obituary of the old Gentleman's Magazine, to which he has
TABLE Book. never failed of having recourse for these
What seek’xt thou on the heathy lea, last fifty years. Yet there was the pride of literature about him from that slender peru
So frequent and alone ?
What in the violet cans't thou see? sal; and moreover from his office of archive
What in the mossy stone ? keeper to your ancient city, in which he must needs pick up some equivocal Latin; Yon evening sky's empurpled dye which, among his less literary friends as
Seems dearer to thy gaze sumed the airs of a very pleasant pedantry:
Than wealth or fame's enrapt'ring oame, Can I forget the erudite look with which Or beauty's 'witching blaze. having tried to puzzle out the text of a
Go, mingle in the busy throng Black lettered Chaucer in your Corporation That tread th' imperial mart; Library, to which he was a sort of Libra. There listen to a sweeter song rian, he gave it up with this consolatory Than ever thrill'd thy heart. Teflection—“ Jemmy,” said he, “ I do not
The treasures of a thousand lands know what you find in these very old books,
their wealth before thee; but I observe, there is a deal of very indif
Friends proffer thee their eager bands ferent spelling in them." His jokes (for he
And envious fools adore thee.
And turn, with aching breast, “ flat bottoms of our foes coming over in
From scenes of tort'ring care and wrongdarkness," and alluded to a threatened In
To solicude and rest! vasion, many years since blown over; this Felruary 21, 1827.
WAVERLEY. It is a curious, yet well authenticated fact, that the novel of “Waverley "—the first, and perhaps the best, of the prose writing of sir Walter Scott-remained for more than ten years unpublished. So far back as 1805, the late talented Mr. John Ballantyne announced " Waverley" as a work preparing for publication, but the announce excited so little attention, that the design was laid aside for reasons which every reader will guess. In those days of so that people are not obliged to walk in peace and innocence, the spirit of literary the middle of the street at all
. The town speculation had scarcely begun to dawn in is protected by strong fortifications, but the Scotland; the public taste ran chiefly on ramparts are changed into charming lawns poetry; and even if gifted men had arisen and walks. There are also delightful tercapable of treading in the footsteps of races on the river side, commanding the Fielding, but with a name and reputation surrounding country, which is enchantingunestablished, they must have gone to Lon rich woods and fertile valleys, swelling don to find a publisher. The « magician mountains, and meadows like velvet; and, himself, with all his powers, appears to have beyond all, the snowy Alps. been by no means over sanguine as to the At Berne I equipped myself as most ultimate success of a tale, which has made persons do who travel on foot through millions laugh, and as many weep; and in Switzerland ; I have seen scores of young autumn he had very nearly delivered a por- men all in the same pedestrian costume. I tion of the MSS. to a party of sportsmen give you a sketch, that you may have a who visited him in the country, and were better idea of it. complaining of a perfect famine of wadding. *
A Young Artist's Letter
The dress is a light sort of smock-frock,
with a leather belt round the waist, a straw Sunday, Sept. 10, 1826. hat, a knapsack on the back, and a small I arrived at Geneva, after a ride of a day bottle, covered with leather, to carry spirits, and a night, from Lyons, through a delighi- fastened round the neck by a leather strap ful mountainous country. The steam-boat The long pole is for climbing up the moun. carried me from Geneva to Lausanne, a tains, and jumping over the ice. very pretty town, at the other end of the From Berne I arrived at Thun. The fine fine lake, from whence I went to Berne, lake of Thun is surrounded by mountains one of the principal towns in Switzerland, of various forms, and I proceeded along it and the most beautiful I have seen yet. It to this place. I have been on the lake of is extremely clean, and therefore it was Brientys and to Lauterbrunnen, where quite a treat, after the French towns, which there is the celebrated waterfall, called the are filthy.
“ Stubach ;" it falls about 800 feet; the Berne is convenient residence, both in rocks about it are exceedingly romantic, sunny and wet weather, for all the streets and close to it are the snowy mountains, have arcades, under which the shops are in among which I should particularize the
celebrated “Yung frow,” which has never
been ascended. . The Times, 26th March, from an "Edinburgh paper."
Interlaken is surrounded by mountains,