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On her exhibiting a copy she had taken of a head from Raphael's great picture

-Tue TRANSFIGURATION -and asking, Was not that painter inspired ?”

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INSPIRED!-could he, the Stoic cold,

The sceptred scoffer at whose word,
(To falsify the doom foretold

By sinful earth's offended Lord,)
'Mid shuddering nature's threats, in vain,
The Temple stones were rear'd again ;*
Could he, fair girl, this instant see
That draft of glory sketch'd by thee
From Sanzio's awful picture, where

He flash'd the Saviour on our sight,
So all divinely grand, we dare
Not trust sensation to declare

If God or painter be more bright-
Could JULIAN-deep his master-mind
By taste and genius was refined -
Behold thee, as thou standest now,

Holding thy wondrous effort up;
With hands upraised and lifted brow,

As Hebé holds to Jove the cup,
Thy soul so fill'd with that bright Art,
It seems prepared thy frame to part,
And struggling with the soft embrace
Of thy light figure's wavy grace, -
Thy dark eyes flashing, and thy hair
ending its shadows to the air,

That else were all too lustrous, while
Thy rosy lips, half open, wear

Pride mix'd with Love's triumphant smile:-
If thus, O bright One! thou could'st beam

Upon that veriest sceptic's gaze,
His unbelief, like sudden dream,

Would melt to worship and amaze ;
And he would own the Faith whose power
Fills and enfolds thee in this hour
With such soft radiance, as in June
Lights up the young delicious moon-
And he whose glorious hand it fired,
The immortal Painter, were-inspired.



If ever my wild spirit burns

Ungovernably bright,
And every human trammel spurns

As summer breezes light,
Laughs at the hollow herd it scorns,

And revels in its might

The Emperor Julian--called by Christian writers the Apostate—to disprove the prediction in the Gospel, he ordered the Temple at Jerusalem to be rebuilt, but, from some natural or miraculous cause, the design was defeated,

+ Suggested while swimming in Bantry Bay, Ireland.

It is when casting off in mirth

And how my buoyant senses bound The garments of man's shame

To feel themselves abroad Standing a moment on the earth Upon the waves that roll around As debtless and the same

The mountain thrones of God, As when I owed her at my birth, 'Mid surges that in thunder sound Not even that sound, my name.

Beneath his tempest rod!

I spring forth from her rocky side

Into the moaning sea;
That crash and clash of waters wide

Is music unto me!
How the bold billows that I ride

Career it gallantly!

O could I stem the world's dark wave

As fearlessly and free
As thus my watery way I cleave!

But it may never be
Then give me back the billows brave!

Their wings of foam for me!



Still, gentle Lady, cherish flowers The Rose repays thee all thy smiles
True fairy friends are they,

The stainless lily rears
On whom of all thy cloudless hours Dew in the chalice of its wiles
Not one is thrown away,

As sparkling as thy tears.
By them, unlike man's ruder race, The glances of thy gladd'ning eyes
No care conferr'd is spurn'd,

Not thanklessly are pour'd ; But all thy fond and fostering grace In the blue Violet's tender dyes A thousand-fold return'd.

Behold them all restored.

Yon bright Carnation-once thy cheek

Bent o'er it in the bud;
And back it gives thy blushes meek

In one rejoicing flood !
That Balm has treasured all thy sigh,

That Snowdrop touch'd thy brow,
Thus, not a charm of thine shall die

Thy painted people vow.*




Sing me thy simple ballad songs

That rich Italian lay
To halls of revelry belongs

Where gladness meets the gay.
But in this pleasant moonlight hour,

While lean the roses in
Through the green lattice of thy

Bravuras were a sin !

Another time that overture

But now “ the Banks of Ayr"
Best harmonizes with the pure

Pale jasmine in thy hair.
Yes, in this quiet cottage-room,

'Mid books and sculpture's sheen, Fillid with the mignionette's perfume,

Bravuras were a sin.

Queen Lilies and ye painted populace
That live in fields and lead ambrosial lives."



Men may make professions, but there cessors;" that his own mode of settling are unquestionably professions which affairs is the sure way to renown: exmake men. Painters are uniformly a pends his capital in the first three fantastic race, jealous, capricious, and months, his credit in the next three, anxious, alike in and out of their painting the patience of the public in the next; rooms. Musicians, too, are a fantastic and having thus handsomely quarterrace, always brooding over imaginary ed the year, reserving the final porneglects, irritated by imaginary inju- tion for quarrels with the actors, suits' ries, and desperately determining once with the creditors, and attempts to a week never to write a stave, or draw get a new term from the proprietors a bow, and thus punish the world for by new “promises to pay,” he makes its injustice to the first of geniuses, his exit into the Queen's Bench. There in his own estimate. But the theatri. he is not long solitary ; he has left his cal people, in all their grades, are the place to be occupied by a successor most fantastic of all. Of course there within the next fortnight, equally sanare exceptions among these classes - guine, equally mad, equally luckless, painters who never wish the Royal who rejoins him among her Majesty's Academy at the bottom of the Thames detenus duly at the end of the season. -fiddlers who are content with their Thus the wheel goes round. wages—and actors who think them. But there is an end of every thing selves lucky in getting any engage in time. The two great theatres are ment whatever. But the most fan now likely to be without even a lessee. tastical of the whole race, and of all Mr Bunn, at least, seems to think so. mankind, are the lessees and mana And he is authority of no slight exgers, or by whatever other names, out perience; for he has been a manager of Bedlam, may be called those ultra for years in both the islands, has aladventurous persons who hire theatres ternately governed each of the theafrom that scarcely less unlucky species tres, we believe; has at last ruled of mankind who have theatres to let. both together, and after the “ repeal It is an established maxim, that there of the union," has left both to what never was a theatre, however ruinous, he pronounces their inevitable ruin; which could not find some one mad having had his own to occupy his at. enough to take it. Though it had tention. The prophecy seems tolermade the last ten managers bankrupt, ably near its completion ; for Drury though as many hundred creditors were Lane is shut up-has ceased to be a filling the world with outcries at their theatre for the “ Legitimate Drama," ruin; and though a Chancery suit or any other, and is, at present, in the that last human accumulation of cala- hands of a French quadrille player, or mity-were in the fifth year of its pro. some such personage, and opens night. gress, with no hope of a decision for ly as a concert room. Covent Garden fifty years to come ; still, no sooner is has been, for the last year, in the the theatre announced to be in want hands of Madame Vestris, whose fareof a lessee, than he is found; the may well speech to the audience declared who has

the season to have been a “ losing “ Eaten of the insane herb

one," though she “ hoped to have the That takes the reason prisoner,"

public patronage" for another year's

experiment; which will probably setcomes forward, offers ten or twenty tle all questions with the surviving thousand pounds a-year for an esta- theatre. Mr Bunn has the further blishment which has never repaid half advantage of being a shrewd, lively, the money; pronounces that all the past and poignant historian of his own disfailures were the fruits of blundering asters, and the absurdities of all others. on the part of “the fools, his prede. He writes now and then like an angry

* « The Stage, both Before and Behind the Curtain. From Observations taken upon the spot, by Alfred Bunn, late lessee of the Theatres-Royal Drury Lane and Covent Garden." 3 vols.

man, and few men have had better of Hope, the anthor of Anastasius—a. reason for being angry. He is some- man of fortune and fame-that, except times compelled to plunge into black when he happened to meet a personal letter and talk of patents and parch- friend, he had no more chance of conments, like a lawyer ; a style which versation in one of the principal clubs would have made Democritus himself (an expressly literary one which he melancholy. But when he can get named) than in a charnel. So, on the rid of these intolerable topics, and talk whole, we wish that, whatever may be of men, women, and actors, (a third the gossip of the Garrick, the custom class of existence, curiously distinct would extend, and that the clubs of from both the former,) he is alert, London would make it penal hence. anecdotical, and very entertaining. forth for any member to keep silence

But these are odd times. An ad- on any subject on which he had any vertisement at the beginning of the thing to say. We recommend the volumes announces that the publisher Garrick, in this essential point, as a differs with the author. The point “normal school" for all clubs metrois the merits of the Garrick club,politan. which Mr Bunn pronounces to be a To come to Mr Bunn's share of sort of “ ear of Dionysius," or, to present celebrity. He has dashed into speak more profanely, a “ gossip. the whole subject of stages, actors, shop" for the malecontents of the thea, and management, with all the fearlesstres, and the subscribers who are fools ness of one who has abundance of enough to listen to them. His pub• facts at his disposal, with a good deal lisher is startled at this plainness of of pungency touching men and things speech, and enters a caveat against which happen to have stung him at the consequences. He states himself any time, and with more acuteness a member of the club aggrieved, hum. and pleasantry than we expected to bly thinks that Mr Bunn's authorship have found in a “ book of wrongs." is no authority. But we would take He walks through the world with a the ghost's word for a thousand whip in his literary hand; sometimes, pounds." The Garrick club is “a like a French postillion, cracking it for gossip-shop,” and that is the honest the mere enjoyment of the sound ; at truth, and not, some think, the worse other times sporting it over the necks of it for that reason ; for what else is of the passers-by, as if to show how any club, or can any club be? except dexterously he might apply it upon due they are of that very sublime order occasion ; but, at others, laying it on which prescribes cold coffee, sullen with a keenness which will make the looks, and profound silence, as the sufferers remember him with much essentials of society. There are clubs more sensibility than tenderness. He in London where a gravity is obser- hates Macready, and hunts down his ved, worthy of a churchyard. It must victim with a sort of exulting ven. be admitted, on the other hand, that geance; others he involves, more or their stupidity is no necessary part less, in his vengeance; and, as the of the foundation ; and that if every result, supplies the world with the one of them were modelled on the idea most unanswerable evidence that there that men are actually human beings, is a little world within the walls of that tongues were intended for speech, theatres, as busy and as bitter, as perand that a slight inclination to mutual plexing and as puzzled, as if it were civilities is not a deadly breach of managed by her Majesty's ministers, bienséance, they would not be an atom and consisted of mimics playing alterthe less agreeable. And this ab. nately at Windsor and Whitehall, insurd moroseness is not limited to stead of mimics rambling from Drury the frown which the regular club. Lane to Covent Garden, and from man puts on at the sight of some Covent Garden to Drury Lane. unlucky country gentleman or wan We have certainly no wish to talk derer from the universities making his politics in talking of theatres; and melancholy tour of the magnificent yet they come across us even in the saloons, and desiring to have some midst of painted curtains, caged lions, thing else to talk to than the list. and those not less hazardous and stuffed stool, or the softest pillowed unruly appendages to the stage, called sofa. All fare nearly alike. "We re. actors and actresses. For the last fifty member it to have been the complaint years, Whiggism has bad “ a finger in every pie," and has, of course, All this represents a happy condispoiled every one. The burning tion of things; and yet all this went down of Drury Lane theatre, now on while the theatre was actually in upwards of thirty years ago, offered a the progress of its most fortunate new opportunity for the Whigs to period. Kean had created a theatrical show their capacity for blundering. mania; and John Bull had poured Poor Sheridan, who bated the Whigs all his superfluous shillings into the in his soul, who always laughed at theatrical purse-sixty-eight nights them, and who, knowing them tho. of one season (1814) having proroughly, shut the gates of power on duced the extraordinary average of them at the first instant when they L.484 a night, or L.32,942 in all. had a chance of doing the country Yet such was the Whig finance, that any ministerial mischief, was yet, un, the theatre closed with an actual loss luckily for himself, nominally a Whig; of L.20,000! And such were the and when he was ruined by the fire, vexations attendant on it, that White the Whigs took upon themselves the bread's melancholy suicide was attri. duty of making the ruin irreparable, buted to his disappointment at the reby assuming the management of his sult of his superintendence. If this theatre. Accordingly, in 1812, it was was the case-which we have never put into the hands of a Whig com. heard doubted-the management was a mittee, consisting of Lord Holland national evil. Whitbread was, by far, and a coterie of others, equally pro- the best of the Whigs. He was, we found and popular, equally distin- even believe, as honest as it is possible guished for literature, and equally for a Whig to be ;-that is, as honest capable of managing their own con- as it is possible to be, in connexion cerns. But among them was one with the party whose motto is falses man whose name threw a light on hood-whose principle of popularity their darkness, and relieved the com is always to pamper the follies of the mittee at least of ridicule. Lord populace--and whose system of power Byron condescended to take this has always been to get place by every trouble ; and his sagacity saw that artifice of the individual, and retain it Wbiggism had no sooner begun than by every hazard of the country. It is it had finished all hope of succeeding. remarkable, and instructive at the same In a letter to his friend Moore, he time, that Whitbread, though the brothus describes their stage achieve ther-in-law of Lord Grey-a noble ments:

lord by no means conspicuous for too 6 I wished, and wish you were in the much self-denial where family patroncommittee, with all my heart. It seems age is concerned-never had any share 50 hopeless a business, that the company in Whig office. His wealth was not of a friend would be quite consoling. My the reason ; for richer men took their new function consists in listening to the pay with sufficient regularity. His despair of Cavendish Bradshaw, the hopes

indolence was as little the reason; for of Kinnaird, the wishes of Lord Essex, noman was fonder of labour. His want the complaints of Whitbread, and the cal- of parliamentary effect could not be culations of Peter Moore, all of which and assigned; for he was, beyond all comwhom seem totally at variance. C. Brad- parison, the best speaker of his party, shaw wants to light the theatre with gas, after the death of Fox. His want of which may (if the vulgar be believed)

1) hereditary rank will not solve the

heredita, poison balf the audience, and all the dramatis personæ. Essex has endeavoured

question ; for the man to whom Lord

Grey's sister was gladly given in marto persuade Kean not to get drunk; the

riage, could not be frowned down consequence of which is, that he has never been sober since. Kinnaird, with equal

even by the grim aristocracy of Lord success, would have convinced Raymond

Grey-himself a very new man. No that he, the said Raymond, had too much

much allowable reason is thus to be found, salary. Whitbread wants us to assess the

but that he was too straightforward Pit another sixpence-a d d insidious

to be entrusted with the man@uvres of proposition—which will end in an 0. P. the tribe. On the 6th of July 1815, combustion. To crown all, Robins the he was found dead in his chamber,

r has the impudence to be dis. frightfully mutilated, and with the pleased because he has no dividend. The razor in his hand. The act was uni. man is a proprietor of shares, and a versally ascribed to a temporary inlong-lunged orator at the meetings.” sanity brought on by the inexplicable

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