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It would occupy too much space if I were to attempt to signalise all the songs, rendered national by their wit and truth, which have proceeded from the prolific pen of the first song-writer of France; but, as my subject precludes me from entering into the consideration of many beautiful songs of his which are not strictly of this description, I may be forgiven for dwelling at greater length upon those which are. If ever poet gave the lie to the assertion that the Muses are alien to politics, it is Beranger. It would be hard indeed were poetry, which sympathises so deeply and so truly with all that concerns humanity, to be debarred from touching on those grand questions which involve the happiness or misery of nations, and the progressive improvements of the human race. The sublimest poetry is religious, but to religion, politics, in the noblest and most extensive sense of the word, inspires the grandest conceptions to the true poet. Those who would restrain him from entering into that wide field, can have no correct idea of the importance of his mission. The song entitled "The Holy Alliance of Nations," written in 1818, in commemoration of the evacuation of the French territory by the allied armies, is a fine specimen of the union of the highest politics with the highest poetry. The following paraphrase may give the English reader some idea of this noble song, which has drawn down the approbation of philosophers and critics, not only in France, but in every country where French literature is cultivated.

VOL. III.

THE HOLY ALLIANCE OF NATIONS.

"I saw from heaven descend the seraph Peace,
To cheer the world, too long by discord torn;
The air was calm, as, bidding warfare cease,
She flung around her, flowers and ears of corn.

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'Oh, hear!' said she, 'distracted nations, hear!
English and French, and all contending lands,
Form an alliance, holy and sincere,

And join, join hands!

Oh, man! poor lump of sanguinary mud!

Open your eyes, and be no longer blind;
Why should ye rage and shed each other's blood,
Because a monarch thinks his realm confined?—
Why, when he mounts his chariot, should ye cheer,
E'en though its hot wheels crush the obvious lands?-
Form an alliance, holy and sincere,

And join, join hands!

Lo! 'mong the corn, now bruised and trampled down,
Ten thousand soldiers breathed their dying groans;

And at each border fort and frontier town

The barren soil grows rich with human bones !

The lurid war-torch, blazing far and near,

Has filled with terror all the suffering lands.

Form an alliance, holy and sincere,

And join, join hands!

Should millions fall in their unholy strife,

Still monarchs think their battles cheaply won;
What do they care for wasting human life?-

They 've gained a province, and the thing is done!
Then up to heaven their haughty heads they rear,
And prate of glory to the bleeding lands.
Form an alliance, holy and sincere,

And join, join hands!

Why should their glory, founded on your woe,
Dazzle your eyes and yoke you to their car?-
Are

ye the gainers by their pomp and show,
Fools that ye 've been, short-sighted that ye are !
Why should these tyrants trouble thus your sphere,
And with their quarrels decimate your lands?
Form an alliance, holy and sincere,

And join, join hands!

Yes! free and happy, let the world repose;

Sheathed be the sword, and be the cannon dumb;

And let the memory of your former woes

Make you the wiser for the days to come!

Then shall ripe corn-fields all your labours cheer,
And the red vintage gladden all the lands.—
Form an alliance, holy and sincere,

And join, join hands!'

Thus to the nations spoke the seraph Peace:

The vintage ripened, and the good corn grew;
Men bade their struggles and dissensions cease,
And youths and maidens danced upon the dew!
Then hear, ye nations! hear, ye people, bear!

Freedom and wealth shall gladden all your lands,
When this alliance, holy and sincere,

Has joined all hands!

The other poets who were inspired by the spirit of this age are few and unimportant. Scribe wrote songs for the theatres; and Casimir Delavigne, a poet far superior, followed his example. None

of these had the stamp of nationality upon them; and the songs of Beranger continued alone to be extensively popular. They kept up with their eternal refrains the hatred against the elder branch of the Bourbons. Every act of tyranny and perversity into which they blundered was stigmatised in songs. These being invariably adapted to some old and favourite melody, were speedily sung in every corner of the kingdom. At last the moment came when the nation could submit to the lash no longer; and, in that moment of indignation, the old echoes of the Tuileries were startled by the deep tones of the well-remembered Marseillaise. The new songs for a time gave way to the old one; and ever and anon, during the three days, amid the thunders of the artillery, the ears of the absolutists were alarmed and offended by the swelling chorus of this popular anthem. The effect of music upon the mind in moments. of difficulty and danger has been often dwelt upon. The inspiring sounds of martial music are constantly employed to lead the soldier to victory; and the populace of the three days instinctively cheered and supported each other behind their barricades by the same means. After the carnage was over, and when the people had leisure to reason upon their triumph, a poet conceived the idea that another national song was wanting to celebrate the victory, and M. Casimir Delavigne wrote the Parisienne; Auber composed the music, and in less than three months from its first publication there was hardly any thing else in the way of music to be heard in France. Even Belgium and Germany caught up the strain, till every street minstrel gave up his own favourite chaunts to make way for the one which had so suddenly captivated the minds of the populace. There is not much in the poetry of this song; and the music is but a rifacimento of some of the finest passages of its great predecessor, the Marseillaise. It is light and graceful, with a dash of joyousness befitting a song of victory.

Since the revolution of 1830, the French poets have, in some degree lost their national characteristics. Louis Philippe gives them nothing to sing about. Beranger has ceased to warble; and the remainder are smitten with the love of Byron or Goethe, and waste themselves away in servile imitations of these models. Victor Hugo and Alphonse de la Martine are exceptions, and, it must be owned, illustrious ones, to this accusation; but they do not sing for France. Their poetry is the poetry of the drawing-room, and their names and works are alike unknown beyond the circle of the educated classes. In the next article upon this subject we hope to stray with the reader over the garden of German and Swiss poetry, and make acquaintance with such of their songs as are strictly the songs of the people; and which, like the French songs already quoted, are characteristic of the country, or were inspired by events of national importance. C. M.

THE GRAND JUROR;

OR, SERVING MY COUNTRY IN GRAND STYLE.

"A PRINTED paper !" said I;

"what can it be about?"

Why, it's a summons, to be sure!" replied my wife.

"A summons!" I repeated; and I added, in order to give a respectable finish to my speech, "very odd this!"

But, though I said it was odd, I thought it was unpleasant, and even malicious; and for a moment I was disposed to entertain a very unfavourable opinion of Mr. Selvedge the linen-draper, Mr. Giblet the poulterer, Mr. Barrett of the Black Lion, and a few other neighbours from whom we take short credit, to save the necessity of writing a cheque for every trifling sum.

The paper was brought to me, and I then found that it was indeed a summons, but not such a one as I had supposed, inasmuch as it required me, not to attend before the commissioners of the court of conscience, but to serve on the grand jury for the county of Surrey at the assizes about to be holden at Horsemonger-lane.

I was a little disconcerted at this, as if I wish to be thought an excellent member of society, I have no objection to allow others to perform those duties which occupy some time, occasion trouble and expense, and bring no profit.

Such being my taste, I felt no dissatisfaction when I discovered that there was a mistake in the spelling of my name, which is Goslington; but it was here made to appear Guzlington.

This defect, though I had no doubt in the world that the summons was intended for me, would, I thought, fully excuse me from attending to it at all; and indeed I considered that it ought to be received as a perfect justification of my conduct in absenting myself if I stated that from the spelling I had supposed it must have been intended for some other person.

But my wife decided that it would be better that I should attend at the time mentioned in the summons, to explain this matter; otherwise I might be fined, which she remarked "would be a fine business."

I concurred with her in this; and accordingly went to the sessions-house on the appointed day, mixed in the crowd, and waited till the names of the persons called upon to serve, as I had been, were read over.

When the officer got to the word "Guzlington," I thought the time was come for getting off from the disagreeable task, and resolutely stepped forward, determined to make it known that they had no right to detain me there.

The name of Guzlington was repeated. I heard the question asked-" Is he here?"

I then called out. "I—I—” But, not being in "the habit of public speaking," as the phrase is, I could not get any further. "He does not answer, said the officer.

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Yes," I called out; "I—I—”

"Say here'!" cried a grubby-faced man on my left hand, whom I recognised as one of the parish constables.

"Oh, he answers!" I heard the clerk say, and I saw him about to write something.

"I wish to explain," said I, "that my name is not Guzlington." "Then what did you answer to it for? You called out here'!" said the clerk.

"I was told to do so."

"You were told to do so!" echoed the clerk, bestowing on me a glance of official contempt. "I suppose you know your own name when you hear it, and understand that you are not to speak for another."

"I wish to explain," said I; and then, determined to finish this business out of hand, I went on: 66 a notice has been left at my house, addressed to Mr. Guzlington; but that," I added, proudly drawing myself up, "is no name of mine."

"What is your name?"

"Not Guzlington, but "-and now I thought the matter would be settled in a moment,-"but," I repeated,

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Gosling-"

Very well,- that will do!" he replied, and wrote in his book. The business was settled quite as soon as I expected it would be, but in a different manner; for the Testament was instantly handed to me, and I was sworn to serve as a grand juror.

I was rather vexed at this result, as I knew it would cause my eloquence to be very disparagingly spoken of at home. However there was no help for it; and after a speech had been delivered by the chairman for the purpose of instructing us in our duty, which, from the noise that prevailed, none of us could hear, we were conducted to the room reserved for the deliberations of the grand jury. The first thing I saw when I got there was a bill of fare, which some of my fellow jurors proceeded immediately to take into their most serious consideration. I was favoured with a perusal of it; and I really felt a good deal consoled for my recent failure while going over this document. Salmon, soles, fowls, tongue, saddle of mutton, custard-pudding, and tarts, all set forth in goodly array, seemed to promise a very considerable amelioration of the duties which I had to perform, for I took it for granted that the public was to pay for all; but my satisfaction was considerably abated when I got to the end, and found it distinctly stated that seven and sixpence was to be charged to each individual.

The names were now called over by the gentleman who had been named our foreman. When he reached what was supposed to be my patronymic, and which had been so carefully corrected in open court, I found that the officer there had considerably improved on the original blunder, and, instead of Gosling having been substituted for Guzling, the latter word was prefixed to my proper name, which accordingly appeared from this list to be Guzling Goslington! I started with indignation at finding myself thus described, and animadverted with considerable severity on the hurry and negligent manner in which the business of the county was performed by some of its officers, who were but too well paid. I doubted whether I could be compelled to remain, being thus improperly described; but my next-door neighbour, Mr. Kneller the undertaker, remarked that I had been sworn, and hoped that they should not lose the pleasure of my company in consequence of a foolish mistake,-for such he and all the other jurors thought it; and they laughed at it

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