A friend 's like a ship, when, with music and song, 9. THE GREAT MUSICAL CRITIC. - Original translation. ONCE on a time, the Nightingale, whose singing Of course, her friends all flocked to hear, There was a general cry of "Bravo! splendid!" Abashed and fluttering, to her nest retreated, It seemed as if the applause would never cease. But, 'mong the critics on the ground, An Ass was present, pompous and profound, Who said, "My friends, I'll not dispute the honor, With study, may some cleverness attain. Then, her friends tell me, she's a virtuous soul; But but-" 66 But," growled the Lion, "by my mane, I never knew an Ass who did not strain To qualify a good thing with a but!" "Nay," said the Goose, approaching, with a strut, "I was about," said Long Ear, "to remark, That there is something lacking in her whistle; - To waken chords and feelings sympathetic, 1 And kindle in the breast a spark Like-like, for instance, a good juicy thistle." "Our learned friend, with his accustomed suavity, He should inform us, as no doubt he will, "Why," said the critic, with a look potential, At Reynard's tone and manner deferential, Why, Sir, there's nothing can so deeply touch My feelings, and so carry me away, As a fine, mellow, ear-inspiring bray." "I thought so," said the Fox, without a pause; "As far as you're concerned, your judgment 's true; You do not like the Nightingale, because The Nightingale is not an Ass like you!" 10. DRAMATIC STYLES. - Blackwood's Mag. - In dramatic writing, the difference between the Grecian and Roman styles is very great. When you deal with a Greek subject, you must be very devout, and have unbounded reverence for Diana of the Ephesians. You must also believe in the second sight, and be as solemn, calm, and passionless, as the ghost of Hamlet's father. Never descend to the slightest familiarity, nor lay off the stilts for a moment; and, far from calling a spade a spade, call it That sharp instrument With which the Theban husbandman lays bare The breast of our great mother. The Roman, on the other hand, may occasionally be jocular, but always warlike. One is like a miracle-play in church; the other, a tableau vivant in a camp. If a Greek has occasion to ask his sweetheart "if her mother knows she's out," and "if she has sold her mangle yet," he says: Menestheus. Cleanthe! Cleanthe. My Lord! Men. Your mother, --your kind, excellent mother, — And felt within her heart the joyous pride Of having such a daughter, does she know, Cle. She does, my Lord. Men. And, but I scarce can ask the question, when Stood a strong engine, flat, and broad, and heavy; Larés and old Penātés; - has she 't still? I fain would know; - pray tell me, is it sold? The Roman goes quicker to work: Tell me, my Julia, does your mother know The Composite, or Elizabethan, has a smack of both : Conradin. Ha! Celia here! Thou hast a mother, child? Come hither, pretty one. - Con. I' faith thou 'rt sharp, thou hast a biting wit; Of what all other people are possessed of, Knows she thou 'rt out, and gadding? Cel. No, not gadding! Out, sir; she knows I'm out. Con. She had a mangle; - Faith, 't was a huge machine, and smoothed the web A right good mangle. Cel. Then thou 'rt not in thought To buy it, else thou would not praise it so. Con. A parlous child! keen as the cold North wind, But has she sold it, child? 11. THE GOUTY MERCHANT AND THE STRANGER.- Horace Smith. IN Broad-street buildings (on a winter night), Sat, all alone, with one hand rubbing His feet, rolled up in fleecy hose; With t'other he'd beneath his nose The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing, Ships, shops, and slops, Gums, galls, and groceries, ginger, gin, Tar, tallow, tumeric, turpentine, and tin; When, lo! a decent personage in black Entered, and most politely said, "Your footman, Sir, has gone his nightly track And left your door ajar, which I And thought it neighborly to give you notice." In time of danger, Such kind attentions from a stranger! Doomed to a final drop at Newgate; He knows that rogues and thieves, by scores, And see, how easily might one Even beneath your very nose, Blow out your candles, thus, and thus, - And walk off, — thus ! ” So said, so done; he made no more remark, But marched off with his prize, Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark! 12. THE VICTIM OF REFORM. Blackwood's Magazine. Adapted. A MONKEY, once, whom fate had led to list For every one's emancipation From every thing and body in creation, So, with some curious notions in his noddle, And conning portions of the precious twaddle, Had struck at all existing institutions, He strode forth with a step that seemed designed To represent the mighty march of mind. Not far he'd wandered, when his indignation A great menagerie, Where birds and beasts of every race and station, All free-born animals, were kept confined, Caged and locked up in durance vile! It was a sight to waken all his bile. The window of the building stood ajar; Nor, like Parnassus, very hard to climb; And many a growl was sent through many a bar. Unnoticed in the hunger-telling din. Zounds! how it made him chafe, To look around upon this brute Bastille, A tiger limited to four feet ten; Pug went above, a solitary mounter, - Up gloomy stairs, and saw a pensive group Of hapless fowls, cranes, vultures, owls, In fact, it was a sort of poultry-counter, Where feathered prisoners were doomed to droop: Not from the skies, but his impending roof; A pining ostrich, moping in a coop; And cramped in such a space, the longest bills His temper little mended, Pug from his bird-cage walk at last descended His bosom in a pant To see all Nature's free list thus suspended, A hardship always reckoned quite prodigious. Thus he revolved, and finally resolved To give them freedom, civil and religious; And first, with stealthy paw, Pug hastened to withdraw The bolt that kept the King of brutes within. "Now, Monarch of the forest, thou shalt win Precious enfranchisement, thy bolts are undone; Thou art no longer a degraded creature, But loose to roam with liberty and nature; Free to search all the jungles about London." |