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if she has not eaten it all, and those cates, which Master Pilchard, the chirurgeon, ordered her. Go and fetch them directly. They will finish our repast daintily; and there are other matters too, which I dare say she has not touched. She will pay for them, and that will make them the sweeter. Go back, I say. Go back, I say. What dost thou stand there for, as if thou wert thunderstruck? Dost hear me, or not?'
'Let the wench alone, dame,' growled Ipgreve. her.'
'So I mean to do," replied the old woman, 'she deserves to be frightened. Hark thee, girl, we must get an order from her on some wealthy Catholic family without delay-for I don't think she will stand the trial to-night.'
'Nor I,' added Ipgreve, especially as she is to be placed on the rack.'
'She has a chain of gold round her throat I have observed,' said the old woman; we must get that.'
'I have it,' said Viviana, in a low tone, and imitating as well as she could the accents of Ruth. Here it is.'
'Did she give it thee?' cried the old woman, getting up, and grasping Viviana's lacerated fingers with such force, that she had difficulty in repressing a scream. 'Did she give it thee, I say?'
'She gave it me for you,' gasped Viviana.
While the old woman held the chain to the fire, and called to her husband to light a lamp, that she might feast her greedy eyes upon it, Viviana flew to the door.
Just as she reached it, the shrill voice of Dame Ipgreve arrested her.
'Come back!' cried the dame. 'Whither art thou going at this time of night? I will not have thee stir forth. Come back, I say.' 'Pshaw! let her go,' interposed Ipgreve. 'I dare say she hath an appointment on the Green with young Nicholas Hardesty, the warder. Go, wench. Be careful of thyself, and return within the hour.'
'If she does not, she will rue it,' added the dame. 'Go, then, and I will see the prisoner.'
Viviana required no further permission. Starting off, as she had been directed, on the left, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her; and, passing between two arched gateways, soon reached the By-ward Tower. Showing the pass to the warder, he chucked her under the chin, and, drawing an immense bolt, opened the wicket, and gallantly helped her to pass through it. The like good success attended her at the Middle Tower, and at the Bulwark Gate. Scarcely able to credit her senses, and doubting whether she was indeed free, she hurried on till she came to the opening leading to the stairs at Petty Wales. As she hesitated, uncertain what to do, a man advanced towards and addressed her by name. It was Humphrey Chetham. Overcome by emotion, Viviana sank into his arms, and in another moment she was placed in a wherry, which was ordered to be rowed towards Westminster.
Merrie England in the olden Time:
OR, PEREGRINATIONS WITH UNCLE TIM AND MR. BOSKY, OF LITTLE BRITAIN, DRYSALTER.
BY GEORGE DANIEL.
Dost thou think because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale?'-SHAKSPEARE.
'A MERRY morning, Eugenio. Did not soft slumbers and pleasant dreams follow the heart-stirring lucubrations of Uncle Timothy ? I am mistaken if you rose not lighter and happier, and in more perfect peace with yourself and the world.'
'My dreams were of ancient minstrelsy, Christmas gambols, May-day games, and merriments. Methought Uncle Timothy was a portly Apollo, Mr. Bosky a rosy Pan-'
'And you and I, Eugenio ?'
'Foremost in the throng.'
'Of capering satyrs! Well, though our own dancing days are over, we still retain a lingering relish for that elegant accomplishment. As antiquaries we have a great reverence for dancing. Noah danced before the ark. Certain it is that there were Vestrises and Taglionies in the antediluvian world. The boar's head and the wine and wassail were crowned with a dance to the tune of "The Black Almayne," "My Lorde Marques Galyarde,” and “The firste Traces of due Passa."
"Merrily danced the Quaker's wife,
Why not? Orpheus charmed the four-footed family with his fiddle : shall it have less effect upon the two?'
'The innocent and the happy, while the dews of youth are upon them, dance to the music of their own hearts. "See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing!" The savages have their war-dance, and the high and low of every country their national jigs. The Irishman has his lilt; the Scotchman his reel, which he not unfrequently dances to his own particular fiddle! and the Englishman his country-dance. With dogs and bears, horses and geese, gamecocks and monkeys exhibiting their caprioles, shall man be motion
There is an odd print of Vestris teaching a goose to dance.' The terms, for so fashionable a professor as he was in his day, are extremely moderate; Six guineas entrance, and one guinea a lesson.' The following song is inscribed underneath.
Of all the fine accomplishments sure dancing far the best is,
Let men of learning plead and preach, their toil 'tis all in vain,
less and mute? Sweetly singeth the tea kettle; merrily danceth the parched pea on the fire-shovel! Even grim death has his dance.' And music, Eugenio, in which I know you are an enthusiast. What says the immortal?
"The man that hath not music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils :
The Italians have a proverb, " Whom God loves not, that man loves not music." The soul is said to be music.
"Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
We read of the hymning of the morning stars,-the music of the spheres:
"From harmony-from heavenly harmony This universal frame began;
From harmony to harmony,
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
And of the general effect of music, take the oft-quoted lines of Congreve,
"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
Then talk no more, ye men of arts, 'bout keeping light and shade,
And a dancing, &c.
Great Whigs, and eke great Tories too, both in and out will dance,
Let Oxford boast of ancient lore, or Cam of classic rules,
Noverre might lay you ten to one his heels against your schools!
Old Homer sung of gods and kings in most heroic strains,
Yet scarce could get, we have been told, a dinner for his pains.
Poor Milton wrote the most sublime 'gainst Satan, Death, and Vice;
The soldier risks health, life, and limbs, his fortune to advance,
'Tis all in vain to sigh and grieve, or idly spend our breath,
Some millions now, and those unborn must join the dance of death.
Yet while we live let's merry be, and make of care a jest,
Since we are taught what is, is right; and what is right, is best.
Haydn used to say that melody was the soul of music, without which the most learned and singular combinations are but unmeaning, empty sound. What but the elegant simplicity and pathetic tenderness of the Scotch and Irish airs constitute their charm? This great composer was so extravagantly fond of Scotch, Irish, and Welsh melodies, that he harmonised many of them, and had them hung up in frames in his room. We remember to have heard somewhere of an officer in a Highland regiment, who was sent with a handful of brave soldiers to a penal settlement in charge of a number of convicts; the Highlanders grew sick at heart; the touching strains of "Lochaber nae mair," heard far from home, made them so melancholy, that the officer in command forbade its being played by the band. So, likewise, with the national melody, the "Rans-desVaches" among the Swiss mountaineers. When sold by their despotic chiefs, and torn from their dearest connections, suicide and desertion were so frequent when this melody was played, that orders were issued in all their regiments, prohibiting any one from playing an air of that kind on pain of death. La Maladie du pays, -that sickening after home! But Handel's music has received more lasting and general applause than that of any other composer. By Boyce and Battishall his memory was adored; Mozart was enthusiastic in his praise; Haydn could not listen (who can ?) to his glorious Messiah without weeping; and Beethoven has been heard to declare, that were he ever to come to England he should uncover his head, and kneel down at his tomb! 'Blessings on the memory of the bard,† and "Palms eternal
Bishop Ken says,
Sweet music with blest poesy began,
And he adds in plain prose, that the Garden of Eden was no stranger to singing and the voice of melody.' Jubal was the 'father of those who handled the harp and organ. Long before the institution of the Jewish church, God received praise both by the human voice, and the loud timbrel;' and when that church was in her highest prosperity, David, the King of Israel, seems to have been the composer of her psalmody-both poetry and music. He occupied the orchestra of the temple, and accounted it a holy privilege to play before the Lord' upon the harp with a solemn sound.' Luther said, 'I verily think that, next to divinity, no art is comparable to music.' And what a glorious specimen of this divine art is his transcendant Hymn! breathing the most awful grandeur, the deepest pathos, the most majestic adoration! The Puritans-for devils and Puritans hate music-are piously economical in their devotions, and eschew the principle not to give unto the Lord that which costs us nothing" Their gift is snuffled through the vocal nose-'O most sweet voices!'
A few old amateurs of music and mirth may possibly remember Collins's Evening Brush, that rubbed off the rust of dull care from the generation of 1790. His bill comprisedActors of the old school, and actors of the new; tragedy tailors, and butchers in heroics; ghosts without their lessons, and readers without their eyes; bell-wethers in buskins, wooden actors, petticoat caricatures, lullaby jinglers, bogglers and blunders, buffoons in blank verse, &c. &c. The first of the three Dibdins opened a shop of merriment at the Sans Souci, where he introduced many of his beautiful ballads, and sung them to his own tunes. The navy of England owe lasting obligations to this harmonious Three. It required not the aid of poetry and music
flourish round his urn," who first struck his lyre to celebrate the wooden walls of unconquered and unconquerable Merrie England! If earth hide him,
if ocean cover him, calm be the green wave on its surface! May his spirit find rest where souls are blessed, and his body be shrined in the holiest cave of the deep and silent sea!'
"Hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings.'
'I was not unmindful of the merry chorister, Eugenio! 'Tis a welcome to the bright orb of day; a note of gratitude to the giver of all good. But the lark has made a pause; and I have your promise of a song. Now is the time to fill up the one, and to fulfil the other.'
'Sweet is the breath of early mo
That o'er yon heath refreshing blows;
When mounts the lark on rapid wing,
Here let the spirit, sore distressed,
Where wounded hearts should seek repose.
But, hark! the lark his merry strain,
'Short and sad! Eugenio. We must away from these bewitching solitudes, or thy note will belong more to the nightingale than to the lark! Proceed we to those localities where musicians and
(and how exquisitely has Shield set the one to the other!) to stimulate our gallant seamen; but it needed much to awaken and keep alive enthusiasm on shore, and elevate their moral character-for landsmen who live at home at ease,' were wont to consider the sailor as a mere tar-barrel, a sea-monster. How many young bosoms have been inspired by the lyrics of the three Dibdins! how have they soothed the dying hero, and embalmed his memory! What can surpass the homely pathos of I thought my heart would break when I sung, Yo! heave O' The last Whistle,' and Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling? stirring the manly heart like the sound of a trumpet! The last of the three Dibdins has just received a somewhat economical reward a yearly pension of one hundred pounds. He had done the state some service,' and was descending the downhill of life, destitute of those cheering appliances that the author of May we ne'er want a friend, nor a bottle to give him!' might have reasonably hoped for. How sad to cry Poor Tom's a-cold and remember the hearts he had warmed with patriotism and humanity! His lyre is not unstrungthere is yet music in the aged minstrel. Let him strike up, and we will ensure him a response; for Wellington has not conquered, nor Nelson died in vain.