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Oh! may no frosts thy beauties chill! No storms thy little frame destroy! But sporting gay beside the rill, May'st thou thy transient life enjoy!

THE WILLOW.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, OF J. J.
ROUSSEAU.

I PALATED thee, and watch'd thy growth,
Thou tender plaintive Willow-tree!
And oft, amid thy yielding boughs,
The little birds would sing to me.
Ab! sing no more ye little birds!
Ye happy, fond, and faithful band!
Poor Elinor was blythe as ye,
Till Heury left his native land.

To seek the gold of eastern climes,

From love he flies, and death he braves

Alas! when bliss at home is found,

Why risk it on the uncertain waves!

As rain-drops feed the fire; So the blaze lit at Fancy's eyes, Sprinkled with tears and faun'd with sighs, As fear depress, or hopes aspire, Still fiercer burns and blazes higher;

O this it is to love!

It is no doubt her beauty's power,'
To languish o'er the faded flower,

Drooping and sad like her;
To doubt her glass, to doubt her eyes,
To shun false flattery's honey'd lies,

Yet still, from one dear flatterer,
Such praise to every sound prefer;
O this it is to love!

'Tis hating her whom he commends ;
'Tis envying all he calls his friends;

Yet still his presence flying; 'Tis loathing the sun's blessed light, 'Tis moaning thro' the tedious night; 'Tis musing, weeping, wailing, sighing, Not yet to die, yet always dying! Know, Stranger, this is love!

THE LOVE-SICK MAID;

AN IMITATION OF THE WRITERS OF THE
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

STRANGER, dost see you pallid maid,
Reclin'd beneath you willow shade,

Who still with listless mien,

Plucks the wild flowers that round her gleam, And watches them sail down the stream,

Trilling a sad wild air between ? Would'st hear, what dims those eyes so sheen? Know this it is to love!

'Tis this, upon her lute to play,
Warbling the weary hours away,

Like plaintive Philomel;
Yet, to one tender pensive song
Returning still, the notes prolong,

Still on that air enraptur'd dwell,
Hark! 'tis the song he lov'd so well,—
O this it is to love!

It is, when with the painter's dies
She bids a new creation rise,
Surpassing mortal grace;

In Surrey's form, in Sydney's eye,
In hero, or in Deity,

With faithful pencil, still to trace
Her lover's form, and look, and face;
O this it is to love!

It is to shun his very name,
Yet thus in secret nurse the flame,

TO THE EVENING PRIMROSE.
Lov'd floweret, rear thy drooping head,
And wake thy beauty pale!
Thy lovely blossoms haste to spread,
And woo the fragrant gale!

Soon shall the evening breezes blow,
Soon fall the evening dews;
Then raise thy petals fainting low,

Thy modest charms diffuse.
Yon flaunting sun-flower, by thy side,
In starry radiance gay,

Spreads her rich breast in beauty's pride,
And courts the noon-tide ray.

Whilst, shrinking from the fervid glow, Thy modest colours fly,

Each graceful floweret drooping low,

Thy silken blossoms die.

But fairer than proud Phoebus' flower
In noou-tide beauty bright,
Art thou, in evening's pensive hour,
By Cynthia's trembling light.
When faintly gleams the western star,
An evening's gentle breeze,
Like sweetest music heard from far,
Sighs softly through the trees :

Then, lovely in the silver beam

Thy flowerets glistening fair, With pearly dew-drops brightly gleam, Resplendent through the air.

47

FASHIONS

FOR

AUGUST, 1811.

EXPLANATION OF THE PRINTS OF FASHION.

PROMENADE DRESS.

A round robe of India jacconot, trimmed round the bottom with ribband; a mantle of fine India mull muslin, or white crape, with ficher front, ornamented with drawn ribband and tassels, terminating on one side in a point finished with a tassel, and confined to the waist on the same side. A village hat of white chip, with a crown of blended crape and sarsnet, bound and tied under the chiu with ribband, over a lace cawl, and raised from the face by a short wreath of small French roses. Parasol and ridicule of purple and green shot silk; gloves of York tau; Roman boets of white Morocco.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS

ON

FASHION AND DRESS.

Fashion and gaiety are no longer to be found in this half-deserted metropolis; we must therefore seek them in their favourite summer retreats; but even there, we must not expect to find much of novelty or of brilliancy. This is not the season of luxury or embellishment in dress; the youthful female, seeking to please, rather than to dazzle or to shine, and partaking of the harmony and genial influence of the season and of nature, forgetting all rivalry, seems to listen with more attention and observance to the suggestions of grace and nature, than to the whimsical and capricious detail of fashion or her milliner. Her habit is simply in a good taste, com placently accommodating itself to her easy negligent form; her hair turned up with taste, part left gracefully flowing; a simple rose, ranunculus, or other equally sweet-scented Sower placed a la-Daphne on each side the head We would not be understood to insinuate, that dress is at this season of the

year a matter of less attraction, though of consideration, than at any other; it is now that neatness is refined into elegance and polished into grace; that youth and beauty are decked in the soft raiment of innocence, modesty, and graceful simplicity. The principal art in dress at this season appears to be in the selection of the most appropriate and becoming colours; here fashion should be entirely out of the question; we are inclined to think that each have their peculiar colour, as every plant has its distinguishing blossom, and that the ribbands of a lady should therefore be so nicely chosen as to appear to have been designed for her by nature rather than her milliner. A mixture of colours should for the most part be avoided, for if they are not entirely out of taste, they at least require so much in the selection and harmonizing, that one would be fearful of such innovation.

The pelisse form still prevails for morning dresses, buttoned down the front with small raised buttons; we have observed several in the robe form falling back from the shoulder, with an apron front and stomacher let in, and laced across in the peasant style, with coloured ribbands; others we have noticed with a small jacket trimmed with lace or ribband; the sleeves are necessarily worn long, the necks high, trimmed with lace edging, and ornamented with lace let in in every possible direction. Caps are equally worn by the youthful or more matrouly belle, composed of bro. caded ribband and lace pearl, or of entire lace or satin, raised above the ear, worn flat on the head, projecting behind in the form of a cone, and brought forward on the face, orna. mented with a half tiura of French roses, pinks, or ranunculus, with a square lace veil thrown over the head, a ribband tied simply round the head with bows and ends rather long, behind the left ear, is the reigning fa

vourite among a few fair fashionables, it is, long white gloves, and shoes of white satin simply graceful and negligently becoming.

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with shoe-knots of silver grapes. White satin For the promenade, spensers with jackets; was never so much worn as at the present pelisses made to throw open; scarfs in white time; white dresses of every description are or black lace or silk; satin tippets trimmed very prevalent; in full dress bands of pearls, with lace; white satin spensers; cloaks or || gold, silver, diamonds, &c. are much worn, mantles, ornamented with broad Mechlin lace; with three or more ostrich feathers forming a lace tippets, lined with sarsnet; French lace plume; the sleeves are invariably short; the cloaks worn short; large square veils thrown waists just below the bosom before, but not over the shoulders; mantles of white or co- quite so short behind; trains of a moderate loured crape, or of fine transparent muslin, length, but something longer in full dress; bound with white satin wreath trimming; coloured spotted gauzes are just introduced lace spensers over sarsnet; and coloured petti- over coloured slips, and yellow spotted with coats to correspond, under clear muslin. Small green over yellow satin; these are novel and satin caps with two ostrich feathers, or lace fanciful, but not elegant or becoming; the ornamented with flowers; or of ribband inter- || small lace tippet is indispensible in full dress; mixed with lace; or of open straw lined with bouquets are so much worn as almost to be sarsnet; or white chip tied carelessly on one considered a part of the dress, they are placed side, ornamented with white or coloured high in the centre of the bosom; silver tiffany ostrich feathers. fans seem much admired, as are silver net bands for the head; when the sleeve is not terminated by an armlet, they are worn easily looped up with a brilliant brooch. Small French aprons in crape bound with silver, with light silver tassels at the corners, are a very pleasing and fashionable addition to dress lace handkerchiefs, with the corners rounded off, so small as just to meet and pin at one ear, are very numerous, and are extremely becoming to a round Madona face. The bauds for the head are no longer brought

For dinner or home dress, Opera nets, sarsnets, satins, Imperial gauze, Merino crapes, and India muslins, made low in the bosom, rather high behind, with short sleeves and small trains, the waists perfectly plain, fitting the shape with the utmost exactness, and much shorter than they have been worn for a length of time; the short Grecian waist is in fact revived. Small lace or satin hoods, raised from the face with bunches of artificial or silver fruit or flowers, are most becoming headdresses for those who have accustomed them-low on the face in the Egyptian manner, but selves to this matronly style of dress. Flowers or pearls entwined with the hair have a more youthful appearance, or the hair simply confined by a small comb, with one or more long ringlet curl left unconfined, has a very graceful appearance; two full blown roses on one side the head is also much worn.

For evening and full dress, lace dresses either in black or white lace, over white satin slips; satin dresses with short trains, trimmed round the bottom with a deep white French or Honiton lace, the sleeves of lace, with undersleeve of satin, confined round the arm with pearl armlets and diamonds or emerald clasps; white and silver gauze over pink or lilac satin slips; train petticoats of fine India muslins or crapes, with lace waists lined with coloured satin; or trains of crape or muslin, with waists of white or coloured satin, and sleeves of lace;

raised from the forehead in the Venetian style;
two distinct necklaces are worn, the one clasp-
ing with a brilliant snap rather loosely round
the throat, the other long in the pilgrim style,
from which are suspended numerous brillisut
bagatelles. Ridicules of silver net, lined with
blue or spangled gauze, set in to an antique
dead silver clasp, with silver chains and tas-
| sels, are very appropriate for the drawing-

room.

Jewellery is much more worn than usual at this season, but we have not noticed any new device; pearls seem the most admired for necklaces, with diamond clasps, broaches, earsnaps, with oblong pearl drops; garnets and emeralds are much admired for their cool and becoming effect; watches are not quite so much worn as the last month; at this season the basket-maker and toyman find more em

ployment than the jeweller, a sort of rustic untutored style of ornament prevails; rural simplicity and rustic elegance are the order of the day.

The hair is worn dressed rather fuller on the face, in thick flat round curls, not strained

back from the temples as last month; it is dressed flat on the head, but twisted up on one side, part frequently left to fall in ringlets in the neck..

The prevailing colours are straw, pink, blue, yellow, and given..

MONTHLY MISCELLANY,

INCLUDING VARIETIES, CRITICAL, LITERARY, AND HISTORICAL.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. LYCEUM.-The Managers of this Theatre have produced a piece which contains a goodnatured satire upon the Hippomania taste of their brother Managers at Covent-Garden. The title of this exquisite Olio combined all the heterogeneous appellatives of the modern drama; it was tragical, comical, and panto mimical—quadrupedal, and bipedal.--The name of the piece was, "The Quadrupeds; or, The Manager's Last Kick.”

boast any important addition. There the whole strength of the Theatre is called forth,. and the stage is covered with horses and donkies. The Flints and Dungs are opposed, and the opposition is real, as neither party can stir for the other, from the want of skill in the riders. The grand battle takes place in the front of a castle. There the last scene in Blue Beard is whimsically burlesqued, and the ludicrous confusion produced by the action has never been surpassed. RAYMOND is the representative of Abrahamides, and appears mounted on a little poney. In the heat of the battle the tailor is dismounted, and his horse sheers off. He then enters with a shovel in. bis hand, exclaiming.

“An ass, an ass, my shopboard for an ass!"

A number of warriors advance, armed with brooms, crutches, and similar weapons, and the charge is renewed with increased fury.Horse and foot mingle in the fray, and a tre

The piece opens with a scene in which the Manager, Prompter, &c. of a theatre are introduced as being in great distress. A bailiff enters in the disguise of a countryman to arrest the Manager, but he is presently put out of the way by a stage trick, as he is sent down by a trap door. A number of duns next wait on him, to whom, as he knows not how to escape them, the Manager offers them bis person, or the profits of a plan which he has in his head. His plan is, to introduce donkies on the stage, and to bring them forward in "The Tailors-mendous discharge of cabbages closes the scene a Tragedy for Warm Weather." His creditors agree to wait the result of the experiment. Several observations are made with respect to the propriety of getting up this piece, and some compliments are bestowed on the Tailor. ing profession, to guard against giving offence to the members of that frateruity.

"The Tragedy for Warm Weather" is then performed. Some of the scenes are omitted, but still it is not shortened in representation, as a number of songs are introduced. The author has measured out rather too much. The alterations made by the songs, &c. are too insignificant to merit particular notice. It is only the close of the tragedy which can No. XXI. Vol. IV.-N. S.

with suitable pomp and solemnity.

Such was this piece; which is in truth a very pleasant ridicule and satire, but whether. it will have any tendency to reform the public taste we have much doubt. As to the introduction of the horses on Covent-GardenTheatre, we could never see any objection to them. The amusements-furnished by battles. and processions had long been popular with. the town; and if the thing itself was palatable,. it was surely better to exhibit live horses than wooden puppets. Living machinery was preferable to dead; horse-flesh to pasteboard. The horses, moreover, came only in their proper place; and Shakespeare was exhibited on, G

his Pegasus before his lacky, Mr. Crossman, ment, and will then give the exact sum. If Came mounted on his steed

WORKS IN THE PRESS.

Mr. John Riug, Member of the Royal ColJege of Surgeons, has in the press a Treatise on the Gout, with Observations on the Eau Medicinale d'Ilussan.

Mr. Bryan Crowther, surgeon to Bethlem and Bridewell Hospitals, has in the press Practical Remarks on lusauity, in an octavo voJume.

Peter Pindar, Esq. will shortly publish Carlton-House Fête, or the Poet's Disappointment, in two elegies; also Curiosity in Rags, or the Daughters of Eve, an elegy. This work, for certain reasons, will be published before the Rival Minstrels, lately announced.

Mr. J. Britton, of Tavistock-place, is preparing for the press the History and Architecture of Redcliff Church, Bristol, illustrated by plans and views of that elegant building.

Dr. Busby proposes to publish his Translation of Lucretius, in rhyme, in two quarto volumes.

Mr. W. Steers, clerk of Silver-street Chapel, will shortly publish a small volume of religious, moral, and miscellaneous Poems.

Mr. Dymock, of Glasgow, has in the press a corrected edition of Cæsar's Commentaries for the use of schools, with English notes and, at the end, a minute explanation of the Roman antiquities alluded to by Caşar.

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asked, how he knows that it is so? he says he cannot tell, but that it is so. The Government, it is said, have offered to take charge of his education, but his father would not part with him, but profers exhibiting his wonderful powers in different towns, and has collected a large sum by this means. It was thought at first that the constant exercise of such uncommon faculties might injure them; kut it is altogether a gift so out of the common course, that little ground can be found to build a rstional opinion upon. Sometimes the persons try to puzzle him, and will tell him he is mis, taken, or will sometimes make a mistake in the result' of the question proposed to try him. The boy will then reply very positively, aud often pertly, when told that he is wrong-no, you are wrong; and in no instance has the child been found to have erred in the result be givcs; what is more, he is equally expert in division and subtraction. In this there can be no trick, as the boy could never be instructed to answer the variety of questions that are daily put to him by different persons who go to see him. He is a forward playful child; and it is sometimes with difficulty that bis father can get him to attend to what is asked him, but the moment he does attend to the question proposed, he gives the answer without any hesitation."

A PRECOCIOUS.-The following is extracted from the Moniteur, under the head of Kingdom of Westphalia. -For these eight months we have had among the students of the university of Gottingen, a boy ten years and an half old, who is a real phenomenon. The name of this young scavant is Chas. Witte. He understands the languages, history, geo

EXTRAORDINARY MEMORY.-A letter from a gentleman in New York to his friend in this country says:-" A wonderful phenomenon has appeared in this country lately, and as the circumstance is curious, and so much the topic of conversation, I shall endeavour tography, and literature, as well ancient as morelate it as clearly as I can. A boy, under dern; at the age of eight years he possessed, seven years of age, who reads so imperfectly besides his mother tongue, Greek, Latin, that it may almost be said he is entirely igno- || French, English, and Italian, to such a degree rant of it, and who is quite unacquainted with of perfection, that he would not only translate figures, yet possesses the astonishing power currently the Eneid of Virgil, and the Iliad of of multiplying numbers so as to give the re- Homer, but could besides speak, with an assult of the most difficult questions. For in-tonishing facility, all the living languages stance, a person asks him how much 5678, multiplied by 5673, or any other number, will produce; he appears to consider for a mo

which have been just mentioned. Of this he last year gave such satisfactory proofs in a public examination, which he underwent at

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