Harlequin again appears, and assuming an imposing attitude, declaims the following in a pompous manner :

Come, fierce declamation; come rant, and fume, and passion,
Nothing else will serve us now, you alone are all the fashion;
All feeling appears tame, and all passion seems at fault,
If the singer does not rave and scream all his part in alt.
Come, boldly mount aloft, and fear not, my noble bass,
The tenor will not be outdone, he'll find his proper place.
Come, boldly mount aloft, good dame Nature must give way;
Effect is all we want, and we'll have it, come what may.
Let the dancer be your model, see how brisk he bounds on high,
How he springs aloft in air, nay, does every thing but fly;
If you follow not his footsteps, and that too in quick progression,
He will beat you in the race, will outdo you in expression;
For fine feeling now-a-days in a pirouette is found,

And in an entrechat much deep pathos may abound.

To dance and sing, and sing and dance, is now, Sir, all the rage,
There's nothing else has power fix'd attention to engage.
My friend, if your orchestra would hit off the ruling taste,
With a quantum suf. of trumpets and trombones be it grac'd;
If in every other bar you but change your modulation,
You will hit the true expedient of starting into fashion.
Who asks for sense or reason, if a show of learning's found,
And difficulties strange and new at every step abound.
Of oboes, clarinets, and flutes, employ as full a store
As would have formerly supplied three operas or more;
Your basses turn to violins, your violins like mad
Must rant and tear; nay, never spare; effect, Sir, must be had,
Let the great drum in thunder come, to fill each languid pause
Noise is your reign, your true domain, - then re-assert your cause.
[Harlequin makes his exit in character.]

A pause ensues: the public gradually becomes restless. The pause continues; signs of disapprobation begin to manifest themselves, and at length break forth in good earnest. The German Opera seems disinclined to make her appearance. The tumult increases; the manager is in the greatest embarrassment; at length Harlequin reappears in a state of exhaustion, and thus begins:-"Ladies and gentlemen, pardon me if I have not time to compress into a few words what I am called upon to say upon the spur of the moment. I am unable to comprehend the cause of your displeasure; why attempt to prejudge our efforts for your entertainment? Where is your usual patience, which the merest promise has so often sufficed to satisfy ?

You imagine, I suppose, that your privileges are infringed. Well, as you have been made to wait, it is but just on your part to require a reason for your waiting.

"To be candid then, the German Opera goes on but very so so; she has been so crippled of late that it is impossible to bring her fairly upon her legs again. Many have been doing their endeavors to bolster her up, but all to no purpose. She has become so swollen

and deformed, that no dress will fit her. Many have been the attempts to remedy this defect, sometimes by means of French, at others of Italian dresses; but all to no purpose; nothing could be more clumsy than these endeavors. At last, a few romantic tailors have hit upon the expedient of choosing genuine homespun materials, and of fashioning them according to the taste and fancy of other nations, without however adopting their extravagances.

"But hark! even now the thunder rolls above our heads; they are about to commence."

(He retires quite exhausted, and mutters to himself in going.) "To a poetical Harlequin like myself, what a nuisance is this confounded prose!

A solemn silence and general expectation now prevail.

AGNES BERNAUERIN.

A romantic national Melodrama. Dramatis Personæ

sary. Scene, the Heart of Germany.

FIRST SCENE - Scenic transformation.

SECOND SCENE.

as many as neces

Agnes. Alas! my soul is enfeebled and my spirits spent.

Brunhilde. O, mistress, attempt not to fathom the unfathomable depths of human sufferings. If you noble ladies take it into your heads to fall in love with misery and distress, will you excuse us for our dulness in not being so susceptible.

Agnes. Come to the castle garden: the gloom of its bower will better accord with the gloomy anticipation of my destiny, for it is necessary that I should anticipate it.

Scene changes. Duke and Followers.

[Exit.

Duke. Sir Knight, follow me to the castle-hall; there, amidst the festive pomp, shall she give you her hand. Should she refuse, deep in the gloom of the donjon keep shall vipers and serpents, according to custom - you understand me [Exeunt.

Scene changes. Albrect appears.

Albrect. Caspar, follow me.

Scene changes. A Spirit appears in a warning Attitude.

Albrect. Who art thou, mysterious being?

Spirit. I have power to do all things. Hasten, noble youth; fear not; depend upon it I shall save you. Away

Albrect. To save her or to die!

(Two Minstrels appear.)

Minstrels. Wait noble lord; we can sing to you the history of all this. TRANSFORMATIONS. Finale.

[Rocky forest scenery. To the left, in the background, a Castle; opposite a Vineyard, more in front, a Hermit's Cell. To the left, in the foreground, a Cavern, somewhat further, a Bower; in the centre two hollow trees, further on a Subterranean Passage.]

Hermit enters singing a prayer. Agnes sings an air in the Castle, united with which is a chorus of vintagers from the opposite side. Albrect is seen slumbering in the bower, and sings in his dream in interrupted tones. Caspar, through fear, sings a polonaise from the hollow trees. Robbers in the cavern sing a wild chorus. Protecting Genii hover in the air over Albrect. Various noises are heard from behind the scenes. Warlike tumult. A distant march from the opposite side of course these are all thunderbolts together. Two thunderbolts fall at opposite sides, and are heard to crash something or other.

All. Ha! (The curtain falls.)

ACT II.

A FUNERAL MARCH. (Agnes is conducted over the bridge of Straubing; in the middle of the bridge her clothes are caught by a nail, and she is left hanging over the stream.)

Albrect enters with Travellers.

[Here an occasional air is introduced. (Recit.) Hasten, my friends, lose not a single moment; If we delay she may be lost for ever! Swear!

(On the word Save, a cadence of a quarter of an hour.) Chorus.

On to death or victory.

(They all swim through the water; the Chancellor dashes out his brains against a stake at the water's side: Albrect rushes in with his Mistress in his arms; enter the Duke in a rage.) Albrect exclaims Father!

(The Duke is instantly touched, and blesses the kneeling pair.)

FINAL CHORUS.

This bridge, an arch of glory
Shall flourish famed in story.

Now is an end of grief and pain,
And everything's set right again.
End of the Drama.

(To be continued.)

ROSSINI.

It is said that Rossini has just made to his native town the munificent present of 60,000f. to found a charitable establishment for old and infirm musicians. It is added that he intends to establish there a public and gratuitous school for singing, the direction of which he will reserve to himself for life.

THE MUSICAL MAGAZINE.

NOS. LXXI AND LXXII.

BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1841.

THE LIFE OF A COMPOSER, AN ARABESQUE.

BY CARL MARIA VON WEBER.

[Concluded from page 288.]

The German opera was followed by a flourishing epilogue from the Harlequin, who made his exit with a skip.

A brisk and enlivening waltz now struck up; the masks disperse in the crowd, and the spectators gather in little groups, and give vent to their critical feelings.

"What a ridiculous farce!" exclaimed a blue domino near me. "What wretched trash!" cried a second. "I would challenge the old One himself to explain what it all means," observed a third.

A Spaniard. "Your pardon sir; if you turn it over in your mind, I think you will discover that there is something in all this. At least, if I may speak for myself, I must say I am delighted with it.” The Blue Domino. "Sir, with all due submission, I cannot help thinking it a mere ferrago; and then as for the verses Magician. "Fairly and softly, good sir knight of the blue! or I shall assuredly shiver a lance with you."

The Domino did not wait to reply, but vanished in a trice.