well provided, and many had even left their servants to attend upon us. In most of them there was a note left by the proprietor, begging the French officers who took possession to take care of their furniture and other things; that they had left every article necessary for our wants, and hoped to return in a few days, when the emperor Alexander had accommodated matters, at which time they would be happy to see us. Many ladies remained behind. They knew that I had been in Berlin and Vienna with my armies, and that no injury had been done to the inhabitants; and moreover, they expected a speedy peace. We were in hopes of enjoying ourselves in winter quarters, with every prospect of success in the spring. Two days after our arrival, a fire was discovered, which at first was not supposed to be alarming, but to have been caused by the soldiers kindling their fires too near the houses, which were chiefly of wood. I was angry at this, and issued very strict orders on the subject to the commandants of regiments and others. The next day it had advanced, but still not so as to give serious alarm. However, afraid that it might gain upon us, I went out on horseback, and gave every direction to extinguish it. The next morning a violent wind arose, and the fire spread with the greatest rapidity. Some hundred miscreants, hired for that purpose, dispersed themselves in different parts of the town, and with matches which they concealed under their cloaks, set fire to as many houses to windward as they could, which was easily done, in consequence of the combustible materials of which they were built. This, together with the violence of the wind, rendered every effort to extinguish the fire ineffectual. I myself narrowly escaped with life. In order to shew an example, I ventured into the midst of the flames, and had my hair and eyebrows singed, and my clothes burnt off my back; but it was in vain, as they had destroyed most of the pumps, of which there were above a thousand; out of all these I believe we could only find one that was serviceable. Besides the wretches that had been hired by Rostopchin ran about in every quarter, disseminating fire with their matches; in which they were but too much assisted by the wind. This terrible conflagration ruined every thing. I was prepared for every thing but this. It was unforeseen, for who would have thought that a nation would have set its capital on fire? The inhabitants themselves, however, did all they could to extinguish it, and several of them perished in their endeavours. They also brought before us numbers of the incendiaries with their matches, as amidst such a popolazzo we never could have discovered them ourselves. I caused about two hundred of these wretches to be shot. Had it not been for this fatal fire, I had every thing my army wanted; excellent winter quarters; stores of all kinds were in plenty; and the next year would have decided it. Alexander would have made peace, or I would have been in Petersburgh." I asked if he thought that he could entirely subdue Russia. "No," replied Napoleon; "but I would have caused Russia to make such a peace as suited the interests of France. I was five days too late in quitting Moscow. Several of the generals," continued he, "were burnt out of their beds. I myself remained in the Kremlin until surrounded with flames. The fire advanced, seized the Chinese and India warehouses, and several stores of oil and spirits, which burst forth in flames and overwhelmed every thing. I then retired to a country house of the Emperor Alexander's, distant about a league from Moscow, and you may figure to yourself the intensity of the fire, when I tell you that you could scarcely bear your hands upon the walls or the windows on the side next to Moscow, in consequence of their heated state. It was the spectacle of a sea and billows of fire, a sky and clouds of flame; mountains of red rolling flames, like immense waves of the sea, alternately bursting forth and elevating themselves to skies of fire, and then sinking into the ocean of flame below. Oh, it was the most grand, the most sublime, and the most terrific the world ever beheld ! !” IT POLYHYMNIA. BY JAMES MONTGOMERY*. (London Mag. June.) T can no longer be a complaint of this age that English songs, without their music, are senseless and inanimate things; for within a very short period of time the most celebrated of our po ets have contributed to this delightful species of poetry; and a young lady at her piano may with the turning over but a few leaves chuse for her voice a song of Moore's, or Byron's, or W. Scott's, or Campbell's. To be sure, Moore's morality and Byron's piety are two for a pair ;-but in the light Scotch words of the two latter, there is all that is unexceptionable: and even in the two former, a want of meaning is certainly their last sin. It is with very sincere pleasure that we can now add the name of Montgomery to those of the illustrious lyrics we have just mentioned; and who that has read the Wanderer of Switzerland and the minor pieces of this poet, can for a moment doubt his power to be great in song? The present little work is composed of seven very beautiful songs written to foreign airs, and as we have the author's permission to publish them in the LONDON MAGAZINE, we shall take them at his word, and let them assert their own beauty :-certainly, to our taste, they have that exquisite union of tenderness, melancholy, and truth, which makes a good song perfect. The first piece is entitled Reminiscence; it is exceedingly plaintive and unaffectedly pathetic. Where is she, whose looks were love and gladness? She is gone, and since that hour of sadness Love and gladness I no longer see; Nature seems her sepulchre to me. Where am I? life's current faintly flowing, Brings the welcome warning of release. Struck with death; ah! whither am I going? All is well, my spirit parts in peace. The air is remarkable for sweetness and pathos. The accompaniment presents only, chord repeated in regular succession, supporting, but not disturb ing the voice, while the short symphonies are full of expressiveness. Youth, Manhood, and Age, the next piece, is of another character; and though one in which the author is eminently successful, perhaps it is not the most fitted for song. YOUTH, MANHOOD, AND AGE. Youth, ah! youth, to thee in life's gay morning, New and wonderful are heav'n and earth; Health the hills, content the fields adorning, Nature rings with melody and mirth. Love invisible, beneath, above, Conquers all things; all things yield to love. Time, swift Time, from years their motion stealing, Unperceiv'd hath sober Manhood brought; Truth her pure and humble forms revealing, Tinges fancy's fairy dreams with thought; Till the heart no longer prone to roam, Loves, loves best, the quiet bliss of home. Age, Old Age, in sickness, pain, and sorrow, Creeps with length'ning shadow o'er the scene; Life was yesterday, 'tis death to-morrow, The music is a fine motivo, exalted a little from its tone of deep feeling by an accompaniment of more motion and variety than the last. These things almost rise to the level of some o. Haydn's Canzonets (the most exquisite things of the kind ever written), Polyhymnia, or Select Airs of Celebrated Foreign Composers, adapted to English Words, written expressly for this Work, by James Montgomery. The Music arranged by C.F. Hasse. and may claim a place in the memory with his Despair, and the Wanderer. The War Song is remarkable for strength, simplicity, and expression; mixing, however, no small portion of melody with its more animating qualities. The symphonies and accompaniments are characteristically plain. "The original strain, of which the following stanzas are an imitation, was wont to be sung, with patriotic enthusiasm, by the German and Prussian soldiers, in their encampments, on their marches, and in the field of battle, during the last campaigns of the allies against Bonaparte. This Tyrtæan Far in exile, when we roam, O'er our lost endearments weeping, When this weary world is past, This is set for three voices, with a solo, and a return to the trio. There is an admirable spirit and beauty in the following. VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS. lyric, therefore, contributed, in its day Night turns to day, when sullen darkness and its degree, to the deliverance of Europe." WAR SONG. Heaven speed the righteous sword, Germania from afar On, to the combat, on! On, to the combat, on! O, Liberty! thy form Shines through the battle-stòrm; Meet Again, is the subject of all subjects for music. It is almost a song that sings of itself! MEET AGAIN. Joyful words, we meet again! Love's own language comfort darting Through the souls of friends at parting; Life in death to meet again! While we walk this vale of tears, Compass'd round with care and sorrow, Gloom to day and storm to-morrow, "Meet again" our bosom cheers. Joyful words, &c. lowers, And heav'n and earth are hid from sight; Cheer up, cheer up; ere long the op'ning flowers With dewy eyes shall shine in light. Winter wakes spring, when icy blasts are blowing, O'er frozen lakes through naked trees ; Cheer up,cheer up; all beautiful and glowing, MAY floats in fragrance on the breeze. Storms die in calms, when over land and ocean Roll the loud chariots of the wind; Cheer up, cheer up; the voice of wild commotion Proclaims tranquillity behind. War ends in peace; tho' dread artill'ry rattle, And ghastly corses load the ground; Cheer up, cheer up; where groan'd the field of battle, The song, the dance, the feast go round. Toil brings repose, with noontide fervors beating, When droop thy temples o'er thy breast; Cheer up, cheer up: grey twilight, cool and fleeting, Wafts on its wing the hour of rest. Death springs to life, though sad and brief thy story; Thy years all spent in grief and gloom; Look up, look up; eternity and glory Dawn through the terrors of the tomb. The music is of an intense but darker character in its opening; the reverse of the movement of which Meet Again consists. This air has a similar, but more marked division. Here also the composer, or the adapter, has shown his knowledge of effect in the accompaniment. The home truth of The Pilgrimage, which follows is delightful. We could wish that English songs should be distinguished by, and valued for, this cha racter. THE PILGRIMAGE OF LIFE. And binds their beauties in a wreath. More dear to him the fields and mountains, In good old age serenely dying, When all he lov'd forsakes his view, It is a bass sostenuto song, expressive and elegant. The passages are cast into the best parts of the voice. It reminds us of the Qui sdegno of Mozart, though the resemblance is in the style, not in the melody. There is a second part for two tenors, which adds a variety to its intrinsic beauty. The last piece, Aspirations of Youth, is the call of Genius to Glory, which can only be truly heard through the air of poetry. With infinite spirit and truth is combined a feeling which carries the invocation to the heart. We should think that this little piece beautifully sung would waken a slumbering mind to its fullest energies. ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. Higher, higher will we climb, Up the mount of glory, That our names may live through time, In our country's story; Happy, when her welfare calls, Deeper, deeper, let us toil In the mines of knowledge; Than the stars of diadems. Onward, onward, may we press, Excellence true beauty; Closer, closer let us knit Hearts and hand together, O, they wander wide, who roam Nearer, dearer bands of love, To our father's house above, Draw our souls in union. To the saints' communion; The music consists of an animating strain, like the War Song. The succeeding verses are in the nature of variations, which are introduced either upon the melody itself, or into the acwith a chorus-a repetition of the last companiment, and each is concluded bars of the air with a different accompaniment. this interesting publication, our readers Having thus given every word of may suppose that they need not see the work elsewhere; but if they suppose that, admiring it, they can do The words are so married to the music without the music, they are mistaken. that in reading they seem to pine for that voice which gives them feeling, force, and spirit. The airs are beautifully selected, and most skilfully arranged; and we only wish that Mr. Hasse, who by this work so forcibly proves his power, would not stay here, -but, seeking other melodies, and inspiring his present companion, would lay other delightful songs at the feet of Polyhymnia. RAYMOND THE ROMANTIC, AND HIS FIVE WISHES. No. III. (European Mag. April) THE SILVER MINE OF ZELLER- tions, that are totally different from any which we have been previously connected with. FED. "And what news from the Kingdom of Subterraneous Darkness and airy hope?-What says the Swart Spirit of the Mine? - - - - Such adventures become a gallant Knight better than a humble Es quire,-to rise on the wings of the night-wind,-to dive into the bowels of the Earth.” The Antiquary. AFTER all the thousand similies, which have been made of human life, perhaps there is not a better than that which likens it to a journey. The reason of this is two-fold: it resembles a travel, first, because we are every day moving onwards to its completion, and consequently we every day lessen the distance which we have to go; and secondly, because the prospect around us is ever changing, sometimes suddenly, and sometimes imperceptibly. In the march of life this is also continually the case; for that which attracted the fancy of childhood, is, in general, no longer looked upon by youth, any more than the pleasures of our juvenile days form the enjoyments of manhood, or the contemplations of advancing age. Such likewise is a journey: perchance at our first setting out, we look upon a level country in high cultivation; then by degrees, the richly party-coloured fields swell into verdant uplands; which afterward rise into dark hills, and these are subsequently exchanged for mountains that seem to embrace the horizon, as the Persians believe those of Kaf surround the world. But the prospects which we behold, while upon our travels, do not always pass away with such a gradual alteration of feature; nor do the events of our lives always glide down into each other, by such undistinguished degrees. No! in the former instance, we often arrive at some stage, where the whole face of nature changes from beauty to wilderness, or from waving forests and corn-fields to rocks and the sea-shore and in like manner, a single hour will often prove sufficient to alter the whole character of our lives, and to bring us into scenes and situa I know not if every impatient and romantic man be possessed of the same feelings, but with me, the moment that one adventure is achieved, or one wish is gratified, my mind is immediately thrown into a state of violent excitation, until my new desire be also fulfilled. Nay, even at the very time when those inclinations are being complied with, I feel in a continual fever of anxiety, until my gratification be put beyond the reach of accident, and I am certain that all which I had anticipated has been performed. From these premises it will be deduced, that after I had descended from the aerial voyage described in my last paper, France was no longer the country for me; since I panted to view the subterranean regions of the world, and pass into those profound caverns, which many wise and good characters have believed to contain a race of beings, that are neither angels nor men. The great Coal Mine at Leige, the splendid Silver Mine at Salsebery, in Sweden, and the amazing depths of the Diamond Mines of Golconda, were all considered for election in my own mind; but my choice was at length fixed by hearing a provincial ballad, relative to the Silver and Copper Mines in the Harz District in Hanover. This brought to my recollection, a thousand supernatural legends, concerning the beautifully romantic nation of Germany; and I conceded a part of my original wish as to the depth of the Mine itself, in favour of the wild adventures with which I might chance to meet, in the subterranean Metalchambers of Clausthal, Zellerfeld, or Rammelsburg. There, thought I, as I revolved the subject over in my own mind, there is the country of spirits; land and water; flood, mountain, and forest; fire and air have all in the ancient Hercynia their appropriate genii. Waldebock, Schaltenmanu, Rilbezhar!, |