The Accompaniment is simple, and duly supports the voice-part without obscuring it by engaging too much of the Hearer's attention.

3. La Bien-venue, a Rondo for the Pianoforte; composed by Samuel Webbe, jun. 1s. 6d. pp. 3.

THIS Rondo is scarcely worth notice, except as an easy exercise for Learners. It would be no easy matter to ascertain its musical character. For any thing that we know to the contrary, it might just as well have been named "The trotting Donkey."

4. P. A. Corri's Original System of Preluding, comprehending Instructions on that branch of Piano-forte Playing, with upwards of Two Hundred progressive Preludes in every Key and Mode, and in different styles, so calculated that variety may be formed at pleasure. pp. 32. 8s. Chappel and Co.

THE Preludes here published may be serviceable if learned by heart, or, as the Author expresses it, by ear; but to think of teaching the art of preluding without some previous knowledge of thorough bass, or harmony, is like teaching a parrot to reason. Perhaps this way of guessing the chords constitutes the originality of Corri's original system."

"Every performance should be introduced by a Prelude, not only to prepare the ear for the key in which the air or piece is played, but to prepare the fingers, and therefore should in general consist of some rapid movement, intermixed with chords, arpeggios, or other passages. A Prelude is supposed to be played extempore; and to lay down rules would be as impossible as wrong, for the fancy should be unconfined. But for those who are not acquainted with the rules of counterpoint, or composition, I shall submit several specimens or styles of Prelude, adapted to every capacity: those desirous to learn more on the subject, must study that other branch. A Prelude may be of various description: it may be long or short, simple or complex, confined to one key, or modulating into a variety of keys; consisting of chords, &c.—in short, as the fancy may direct; but confined to this rule, that it must begin and end in the same key, which must be the key in which the movement is going to be played. The style for playing Preludes should be bold and energetic; the running passages

executed with brilliancy and velocity; the chords that are long, and which con clude the Prelude, should not be struck together, but by a long-extended appogiando. Appogiando signifies playing a chord in a leaning or slanting direction, so that the notes are heard successively. Those chords which begin any run or passage should have emphasis, and should be played more together, and with more fimness. When there are several chords

The

together, they should be played almost together, and not appogiando. arpeggios, and passages, wherein both hands combine, and that are linked with ties, &c. must be played perfectly regular and legato, keeping as many notes down as possible. In the performance of Preludes, all formality or precision of time must be avoided: they must appear to be the birth of the moment, the effusion of the fancy for this reason it may be observed, that the measure or time is not always marked at Preludes." P. 1—4.

The rest of the work consists al most entirely of examples, of " codas, and capriccios."

capos,

P

5. Haydn's favourite Quartett, arranged for the Piano-forte, by Dr. Crotch. Nos. I. & II. each 3s. 6d. Chappel & Co. IT is needless to praise these mastercompositions, for the united names of Haydn and Crotch are sufficient recommendation to all real lovers of musick. Each of these Quartets consists of four movements, of which the third is an adagio, and the fourth a presto. No. 1. is in C major, and its adagio in F; No. II. is in E major, and its adagio in A. Both may be studied with advantage by those performers who are sufficiently advanced and they will present many new diffi culties to the young player, who has confined his practice to thin compositions in the Latour style. There is a curious change from triple to common time in the adagio of No. I. page 8. Dr. Crotch has fixed the time in which every movement is to be performed, by stating the length of a pendulum to swing quavers or crotchets. It is to be desired that all

Composers would adopt the same method. Of these two Quartets we greatly prefer the second, which is truly charming. It is worthy of remark that No. I. ends with the fifth of the triad for the highest sound, an uncommon termination, and rarely pleasing.

SELECT

CARMEN TRIUMPHALE.

For the Commencement of the Year 1814. By ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. Poet-Laureat. IN happy hour doth he receive

The laurel, meed of famous bards of

Which Dryden and diviner Spenser woreIn happy hour-and well may he rejoice, Whose earliest task must be

To raise the exultant hymn for victory, And join a Nation's joy with harp and voice,

Pouring the strain of triumph on the wind, Glory to God, his song-Deliverance for Mankind!

Wake, lute and harp! My soul take up

Glory to GOD! Deliverance for Mankind! Joy, for all nations, joy! but most for thee

Who hast so nobly fill'd thy part assign'd, O England! O my glorious native land! For thou in evil days didst stand Against leagued Europe all in arms array'd,

Single and undismay'd,

Thy hope in Heaven and in thine own right hand.

Now are thy virtuous efforts overpaid, Thy generous counsels now their guerdon find,

Glory to GOD! Deliverance for Mankind!
Dread was the strife, for mighty was the
Foe
[overthrow.
Who sought with his whole strength thy
The nations bow'd before him; some in

Subdued, some yielding to superior art; Submiss, they follow'd his victorious car. Their Kings, like Satraps, waited round his throne:

For Britain's ruin and their own By force or fraud in monstrous league combined.

Alone in that disastrous hour Britain stood firm, and braved his power; Alone she fought the battles of mankind. O virtue, which above all former fame, Exalts her venerable name!

O joy of joys for every British breast! That with that mighty peril full in view, The Queen of Ocean to herself was true! That no weak heart, no abject mind possess'd

Her councils, to abase her lofty crest,Then had she sunk in everlasting shame,But ready still to succour the oppress'd, Her red-cross floated on the wave unfurl'd, Offering redemption to the groaning world. First from his trance the heroic Spaniard woke;

His chains he broke,

4nd casting off his neck the treacherous yoke,

Oh, had the sun stood still that hour,
When Marinont and his broken power

Fled from their fields of shame! Spain felt thro' all her realms the electric blow;

Cadiz in peace expands her gates again; And Betis, who to bondage long resign'd, Fiow'd mournfully along the silent plain,

Into her joyful bosom unconfined Receives once more the treasures of the main.

The fame of that victorious fight..
Revived the spirit of the farthest North;
And England in auspicious hour put forth
Her whole unshackled might.
With her in many a field approved,

The Lusitanian legions moved:
Nor longer now did grateful Spain

Disdain her willing sons to see
By England train'd to victory.
Patient awhile their force the hero nurst,
Then like a torrent from the hills he burst.
What now shall check the Wellesley, when
at length

Onward he goes, rejoicing in his strength? From

From Douro, from Castille's extended

plain,

The foe, a numerous band, Retire; amid the heights which overhang Dark Ebro's bed, they think to make their stand. [speed;

He reads their purpose, and prevents their
And still, as they recede,
Impetuously he presses on their way;
Till by Vittoria's walls they stood at bay,
And drew their battle up in fair array.

Vain their array, their valour vain :
There did the practised Frenchman find
A master arm, a master mind!
Behold the veteran army driven
Like dust before the breath of Heaven,
Like leaves before the autumnal wind!
Now, Britain, now thy brow with laurels
bind;

Raise now the song of joy for rescued Spain! And Europe, take thou up the awakening strain

Glory to God! Deliverance for Mankind!
From Spain the living spark went forth!
The flame hath caught, the flame is spread!
It warms, it fires the farthest North.
Behold the awaken'd Moscovite
Meets the tyrant in his might;
The Brandenberg, at Freedom's call,
Rises more glorious from his fall;

And Frederic, best and greatest of the

name,

Treads in the path of duty and of fame. See Austria from her painful trance awake! The breath of GoD goes forth,—the dry bones shake!

Up Germany! with all thy nations rise! Land of the virtuous and the wise, No longer let that free, that mighty mind, Endure its shame! She rose as from the dead. [head

She broke her chains upon the Oppressor's Glory to God! Deliverance for Mankind! Open thy gates, O Hanover! display

Thy loyal banners to the day; Receive thy old Illustrious Line once more! Beneath an Upstart's yoke oppress'd, Long bas it been thy fortune to deplore That Line, whose fostering and paternal sway

So many an age thy grateful children blest, The yoke is broken now! a mightier hand Hath dash'd-in pieces dash'd-the iron rod.

To meet her Princes, the deliver'd land Pours her rejoicing multitudes abroad; The happy bells from every town and tower,

And William the Deliverer, doth thine eye Regard from yon empyreal realm the land

For which thy blood was given?

What ills hath that poor Country suffer'd long! [oppress'd Deceived, despised, and plunder'd, and Mockery and insult aggravating wrong! Severely she her errors hath atoned, And long in anguish groan'd, Wearing the patient semblance of despair, While fervent curses rose with every prayer!

In mercy Heaven at length its ear inclined; The avenging armies of the North draw nigh,

Joy for the injured Hollander, the cry
Of Orange rends the sky;

All hearts are now in one good cause com→
bined,
[high.-
Once more that flag triumphant floats on
Glory to GOD! Deliverance for Mankind!
When shall the Dove go forth? Oh when
Shall Peace return among the Sons of Men?
Hasten, benignant Heaven, the blessed
day!

Justice must go before,

And Retribution must make plain the way;

Force must be crushed by Force,

The power of Evil by the power of Good, Ere Order bless the suffering world once more,

Or Peace return again. Hold then right on in your auspicious

THE WHITE COCKADE. AN ADDRESS TO THE FRENCH NATION. By W. T. FITZ-GERALD, Esq.

And from all hearts and tongues, with
one consent,
[is sent,-
The high thanksgiving strain to Heaven
Glory to GoD! Deliverance for Mankind!
Egmont and Horn, heard ye that holy cry,
Martyrs of Freedom, from your seats in
Heaven?

keenly feel [steel! Disgrace more piercing than the sharpest Polish'd in Courts, and gallantlin the Field, Pure honour graced the Lilies on your shield;

Proud to support your Bourbon's splendid throne, [own!

You ever made your Monarch's cause your And

And can you now the Corsican obey,
And crouch beneath a Stranger's galling

Can you his base detested pomp support, The low, mean shadow of your former Court?

The air of France seems tainted with his breath, [death! His smile is poison, and his friendship The wretch, who shared his plunder, hopes in vain, [tain; Wealth, Hell-derived, in safety to mainHe too is robb'd to prop the Murderer's throne,

For who can call a Tyrant's gifts his own! A base Assassin laid Great Henry lowBut where's the hand to strike the Patriot blow?

To hunt the Monster in the battle's rage, Then seize and chain him in the Tartar's

Or rid the World, by one avenging deed, Of him who made devoted millions bleed! Who dragg'd your Sons, like Felons, every hour,

To glut ambition, and his lust of power! Dragg'd them to perish in the Northern [last! Oh! would that crime had been the Tyrant's Be then again yourselves, and break his chain;

Follow the bright example set by Spain! See Holland shakes his fetters from her hand,

And breathes once more
Her exiled Prince recalls, with one accord,
Augments his power, and makes him So-

The Rhine beholds her Sons no more obey A Wretch whose crimes pollute the face of day,

But sees her rights and liberties restored By friendly nations and her native sword! Though from the Pyrenæan Heights ad

Victorious Britons in the Plains of France;
Led by a Chief as great in martial fame
As the plum'd Edward of immortal name!
No mad ambition fires that Leader's breast,
No Peasant's robb'd, no Village is op-
press'd!

No plunder'd Provinces, or Towns in flame,
Tarnish the glory of the British Name:
Not as a torrent wasting all along,
But, like a noble river, deep and strong,
They come in gallaut trim and firm ar-
ray,

To give you promise of a happier day;
Break but your chains-the sword they
nobly wield
[shield;
Shall prove to France an adamantine

*Timor the Great, when he defeated and took Bajazet prisoner, had him conSued in an iron cage, and carried about with the victorious army.

fate,

He dies lamented by the Good and Great; And to do honour to the hostile brave, The generous foe plants cypress on his grave!

Reflecting as he bends his laurel brow, His end may one day be what thine is now!

For, though ambition might thy life mis-
lead,
[bleed:
The Vietor mourns to see the Vanquish'd
Not so when Buonaparté meets his doom-.
Hatred pursues the Tyrant to his tomb;
Unwept, unpitied, shall the Murderer fall,
The plague of Europe, and the scourge of

Gaul!

THE SECOND ODE OF
ANACREON.

TRANSLATED BY LORD THURLOW.

HORNS to the bull, hoofs to the horse,
To hares a swiftness in the course,
To lions, mouths of carnage grim,
To fishes in the waves to swim,
Warlike thought; has Nature then,
To birds to fly, and thought to men,
Who gave these things, no further store?
To Woman can she yield no more?
What then to Woman has she given?
Form, the fairest gift of Heaven;
Instead of shields, instead of spears,
Arm'd with this, when she appears,
Fire, and iron she doth quell,
And what else the Poets tell,
Being by this invincible!

* Vide Mr. Fitzgerald's Address to the Literary Fund, on their Anniversary last May, in vol, LXXXIII. Part I. p. 462.

THE

THE FOURTEENTH ODE OF ANACREON. TRANSLATED BY LORD THURLOW. YES, I wish, I wish to love;

Cupid of old this thing did move, But I, that had no prudent mind, To my true interest then was blind, And nothing to his speech thelin'd. Then he lift up his bow to view, And his golden quiver too; Then he provok'd me to the fight, And I arm'd me for my right, My shining breast-plate I put on, And, like a new Achilles, shone, And shield and spear I brought with me, To wrest from Love the victory. He threw, and I too threw my dart, But soon the God had play'd his part, No other darts he had to throw, Then took it ill, the angry foe, And threw himself, i' th' shape of a dart, Into the middle of my heart, Life and body then did part. In vain I held my shield on high, Why outwards should we fortify, When the war within doth lie?

Oh! that my spirit's eye could see
Whence burst those gleams of ecstacy!
That light of dreaming soul appears
To play from thoughts above thy years.
Thou smil'st as if thy soul were soaring
To Heaven, and Heaven's God adoring!
And who can tell what visions high
May bless an infant's sleeping eye?
What brighter throne can brightness find
To reign on, than an infant's mind,
Ere sin destroy'd, or error dim
The glory of the Seraphim?

SONG.

THE Storm that rag'd throughout the night
Was lull'd again to peaceful rest,}
And trembling Guilt and pale Affright,
Were for awhile with safety blest:
Then Morning, with the youthful hours,
Came ou, in ether-blue array'd,
And, pitying, wept in dewy showers

The havock which the Storm had made. So keen Adversity subdues

The generous mind, the heart sincere, And Virtue, as the wreck she views, Bestows a renovating tear. C. F. W.

BEN JONSON'S CLUB LAWS. Leges Conviviales, quod felix faustumque Convivis in Apolline sit. NEMO asymbolus, nisi umbra huc venito, Idiota, insultus, tristis, turpis abesto. Eruditi, Urbani, Hilares, Modesti adsciscuntur,

Nec lectæ Fœminæ repudiantur. In apparatu, quod convivis corruget nares nil esto, [parantur; Epulæ delectu potius, quàm sumptu Obsonator, et Coquus convivarum gulæ periti sunto;

De Discubitu non contenditur. Ministri à dapibus, oculati et muti, A poculis auriti, et celeres sunto. Vina puris fontibus ministrantur, aut vapulet hospes, [esto, Moderatis poculis provocare sodales fas At fabulis, magis quam vino velitatio fiat,

Convivæ nec muti, nec loquaces sunto. De seriis aut sacris, poti, et saturi ne disserunto,

Fidicen nisi accersitus non venito.
Admisso risu, tripudiis, choreis saltibus,
Omni gratiarum festivitate sacra cele
brantur: