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they, the tout ensemble is grand, is noble; yet though even here is more of the caricature, more of the grotesque than in many of his works, still does it bring to our ideas the remembrance of Raphael and Poussin, haunting,|| as it were, the chamber of the artist.

THE VILLAGE GROCER. This is also a rural housewife, but quite of a different species from the specimen in our last Number, and which it is the opinion of the French connoisseurs is by no means equal to that already given. This, in fact, is nothing but the jolly shopkeeper, or huckster, with all the manners of the counter; aud here, in addition to the difference of expression, the head itself is much inferior to the other, for the eyes are grey, without life or brilliancy, and the shades of the countenance are too faint and too indecisive even for an interior light. The hands also are too wither

right hand is the worst drawn. The outlines and angles of motion are too abrupt, too acute; the blue apron is laboriously finished; the linen is lightly drawn, and well finished; and the short gown is full and round-about enough, but of a stuff whose species is doubtful.

Poussin himself has never drawn a finer head, a head with more expression, more finished, or more classic than the head of the sick woman; even a physician would not be deceived, nor would he require to feel the pulse before he could decide upon the disorder. Raphael has never shone more brilliant in his drapery, or in its costume; never has he composed any thing more elegant than the disha-ed, although delicate in their form, and the bille of the female, never has he sketched an attitude which preserves better the dignity of the character. Poussin has never drawn a figure whose expression accords better with the antique, nor more natural, more touching than that of the young female who presses her lips to the hand of her dying mother. Raphael || has never produced a figure of adolescence The old woman who sits is a better figure; more finely slender, or more elegant, than that she seems to reckon up the remainder of her of this magnificent empiric, called in when all money before she lays down the crown piece regular prescription is given over as unavail- which is in her left hand. This expression is ing. Poussin has no where a shadowing of well-caught by the profile; the lower lip calexpression more exquisitely felt than that ofculates: and her linen head-dress is thrown in the maid-servant, who is anxious to prevent in a demi-tint which displays great judgment. her mistress from seeing her extreme danger,|| This head is indeed a copy from that of the and who by a glance of her eye endeavours to check the grief which the young and sensitive daughter cannot conceal. Rembrandt has never produced effects of light more true, more strikingly correct, than that of the daybeams which enter through the window, and are gradually lost as they recede towards the back ground. The ablest painter of inanimate objects has never produced the various details of furniture more highly finished, or better drawn, than the marble vessel with purple tints, containing a porcelain vase, or

the bronzes which form the handles. The

inlaid floor is a lesson of perspective; and the mutual reflection and shade of the various ob jects are a study of colouring for the artist. Whether we blame or praise, we go from the detail to a general view, we return again from a general view to the detail; here then we have only to say that the tout ensemble has all the wisdom, all the art of a great master, whilst the detail is as precious as that of artists who had never attempted any other mode of painting.

old woman in the picture of the Family, al. ready given; but then its general tone is less highly finished, and its shadows are by no means so transparent. Her gown seems to be a changeable stuff, but then it is not silky enough to ascertain precisely of what kind. The right hand also is too small; and the little boy behind this old woman has handsome features, but rather ideal. The whole tone of the apartments, and of the back ground in particular, is strictly in unison with the subject. In the details of this piece we cannot pass by a package of crumpled paper whose execution appears trifling, but which has drawn forth all the skill of Gerard Dow.

A vessel of common earthenware, and of a very red colour, rests upon the fore-ground, and has been placed there with great skill by the artist. Without this blotch of red all the rest of the piece would be too deeply coloured; it seems to prepare and to lead the eye by its impression, and to conduct it gradually to the back ground of the picture. A basket which hangs in the window, is a chef-d'œuvre As a contrast to this high finished work, of patience; the shadow of each separate twig we next give is distinctly traced upon the wall.

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POETRY.

ORIGINAL AND SELECT

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From Scotia's fam'd land, where his forefathers [nourish'd,

flourish'd,

And still where true valour and genius are To fight for his country, with zeal overflowing, Away to the wars went brave Graham of Balgowan!

Abercrombie and Moore, immortal in story, His comrades in battle, and partners in glory, Beheld with delight, while his laurels were growing,

The hero and patriot in Graham of Balgowan!

For often, at midnight, the camp-cloak his cov'ring,

[ing, While Spirits benignant around him were hov'rHe stole the repose which to Nature was owing,

To study their welfare who dwell at Balgowan !

On the heights of Barrosa, arriv'd without slumber,

The foe in battalia, and triple his number, He fought, and he conquer'd, to France nobly showing

How Britons can triumph, led on by Balgowan!

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SONG OF THE FAIRIES TO THE SEA
NYMPHS.

BY THE LATE MISS SEWARD.
HASTEN from your coral caves,
Every nymph, that sportive laves
In the green sea's oozy wells,
And gilds the fius, and spots the shell.
Hasten, and our morrice join,
Ere the gaudy morning shine!
Rising from the foamy wave,
Instantly your aid we crave,
Come, and trip, like our gay band,
Traceless on the amber sand.

Haste, or we must hence away,
Yet an hour, and all is day.

At your bidding, from our feet
Shall the ocean monsters fleet;
Sea nettle and sting fish glide
Back upon the refluent tide.

Haste, the dawn has streak'd the cloud,
Hark! the village cock has crow'd.
Se, the clouds of night retire,
Hesper gleams with languid fire;
Quickly then our revel join,

The blush of morn is on the brine.
Loiterers! we must hence away,
Yonder breaks the orb of day.

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TO THE MEMORY OF MATILDA F————,

I WAS wont with emotion

To own the soft power,
This season imparts to the soul;
Now pensive I gaze,

Its influence seemis gone,

And its charms can no longer controul.

Sure the sun shines as bright,

And the birds sing as gay,

Why heaves thus he sighs from my heart? 'Tis the sighs of regret, Dear Matilda for thee,

Aad the sorrow I feel thus to part.

Not a leaf or a blossom

Expanding to view,

But dearest Matilda appears;
And my sympathy mourns
For the loss of my friend,
Cut off in the bud of her years.
How fondly I looked

For the intercourse sweet,
When thy age to maturity grew;
But 'tis selfish to wish

Thee, dear girl, back again,
Since the change is a blessing to you.
To each friend thou wert dear,
And thy virtues well known,
Or my pen on thy praise long should dwell,
Though vain is such praise

For a spirit so bless'd,
Dear Matilda, for ever farewell!

THE CYPRIAN'S PETITION.

WITH aching heart, your pity, Sir, I crave, My wan's compel me thus to pray relief; Soon shall I friendless seek the silent grave, That grave where ends both misery and grief. These clothes my state to passers by proclaim,

These haggard looks in unison appear; And oft' the finger of reproach and blame

Draws from my eye the unavailing tear. Yon mansion which o'erlooks the shaded vale Lur'd me to pray relief in accents mild, For Lord the owner was of all the dale,

And fortune hail'd him as her favour'd child. Scarcely my lips the piteous tale began,

Scarce had I dar'd his bounty to implore, When lo! the minion of this cruel man, [door. With sternness, bade me quit his master's Oh! pray your charity to me impart,

For the keen blast assails my weaken'd frame; Console, ere 'tis to late, this breaking heart, Which soon will leave of Anna but the name.

Should I repeat the soft seductive tale

That Henry urg'd to mar my future rest,

To help a poor forlorn you could not fail,
If mercy boasts a seat within your breast.
'Twas Henry made me prostitution's prey,

He did in friendship's mask my heart subdue: 'Twas he, ungrateful mau, who pav'd the way To future scenes which honour shrinks to view.

How shall I paint those joys which now are past?

Or how my murder'd parent's love relate? 'Till Henry came my virtuous mind to blast'Til Henry made me feel their direst hate. My tender mother, who, with fond delight, View'd me in life's decline, her pleasing care, Soon clos'd her aged eyes in endless night, And breath'd for my reclaim her fervent pray'r.

My father, too, bereav'd of wife and child,

A prey to racking torments soon became; By madness seiz'd, by frenzy driv'n wild,

In latest breath, curs'd his poor Anna's

name.

In humblest tones, your pity then I crave,
My wants compel me thus to pray relief;
Soon shall I friendless seek the silent grave→
That grave where ends both misery and
grief.

THE TEAR.

ON beds of snow the moon beam slept, And chilly was the midnight gloom, When by the damp grave Ellen wept— Sweet maid! it was her Lindor's tomb! A warm tear gush'd, the wintry aie

Congeal'd it as it flow'd away: All night it lay an ice-drop there, At morn it glitter'd in the ray! An angel, wand'ring from her sphere, Who saw this bright, this frozen gem, To dew-ey'd Pity brought the tear, Aud hung it on her diadem!

FROGMORE GARDENS. HERE may the red rose and the white, To shade the linnet's nest unite; May heart's-case open with the light, And sunshine banish mildews quite. May Health on ev'ry rose-leaf fling The sweetest blessings she can bring; May bees be busy on the wing; And may the robin all day sing. And may at night each alley green That winds around this magic scene, By Fairy elves be kept so clean, That not a single thorn be seen.

FASHIONS

FOR

JUNE, 1811.

EXPLANATION OF THE PRINTS OF FASHION.

No. 1.-WALKING DRESS.

should, otherwise this would be the precise point, when ease and elegance, nature and pro

A pelisse of pale pink sarsnet, lined with white, and ornamented with rich silk Bran-priety, are all combined to contribute to the

denburg trimmings of correspondent pink, or
pale brown; a high standing ruff round the
throat; a Persian mantle of pale blue, or
white, thrown over the dress. A basket hat
of straw, ornamented with a demi-wreath of
half blown roses.
Shoes of blue kid; gloves
of York tan.

No. 2.-PARISIAN BALL DRESS.

A frock of white crape, ornamented with white satin in a leaf pattern, the bottom of the dress trimmed with pale French roses and a plaiting of green and root-coloured ribband mixed; short bell sleeves; Persian fringed sash; long white kid gloves; stockings much embroidered; the hair plaited, and twisted with a double row of pearls.

grace and loveliness of the female person.

We scarcely ever remember that in any season white was so universally prevailing as at the present; it is not exclusively confined to the under garb, for we have observed several pelisses, mautles, cloaks, tippets, and spensers innumerable in white sarsuet, trimmed with broad Mechlin lace; and for the higher order of the promenade nothing can be more elegantiy bewitching, though scarcely more attractive, than the pelisse of a dark bút bright green sarsnet unconfined, and negligently flowing back so as to display a high dress vieing with the lily in whiteness, and worn with a cottage bouuet of white chip, tied with white. Small sarsnet cloaks, sloped to a point in front, and trimmed with broad black lace, are very prevailing, as are lace cloaks of a like form, with a small tippet of sarsnet worn underneath. Short sarsnet pelisses trimmed with lace, or long pelisses of the most transparent muslin lined with pale pink or blue sarsnet, spensers in muslin lined are likewise very general. Crape mantlets reaching only to the point of the elbow, bound and trimmed with satin rib. band, with satin turban caps ornamented with Nothing can be a stronger proof that there a long white willow feather, are elegantly apway of setting off native beauty with ease propriate for the evening select promenade. and inuocence, which will charm without the Within these few days gipsy hats bave apdanger of turning outward ornaments into peared, they are extremely becoming to a light folly and extravagance, than the present mode airy figure: the slouched riding hats, with of dress affords; never were ladies so simply pointed rims in front, are much worn, but beattired, so divested of all the unnecessary trap-coming too general, they have among a few pings of finery, as at the present day, and when did they appear half so lovely, so attractive? Fashion is always aiming at perfection, but never finds it, or never stops where it

is

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS

ON

FASHION AND DRESS.

select fashionables given place to the gipsy bonuets with dome crowns; but nothing can supersede the cottage bonnet, either in straw, chip, or satiu, ornamented with a white ostrich

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