be very gladly owned by the best modern composers. The felicity with which he catches the character of the melody, and gives it the language that speaks what the music has often made us feel, has been again and again acknowledged over, we verily believe, more than half the piano-fortes in the kingdom. We do not believe that the present volume will afford any opportunities for similar discoveries. To us the airs have all the charms of novelty. We should like, however, were it possible, to collect the suffrages of some who have been a little practised in this sort of divining, and ascertain what they deem the meaning of the short, wild, but beautiful Hindoo air, which is the second in this collection. We think it hardly possible to hear it twice over, or attend to its simple structure, its limited compass, the frequent repetition of the same cadence, and, above all, to the impression left on the ear by the concluding note, without fancying a single voice, singing to a full chorus of bells, ringing in complete harmony. How Mr. Moore has expressed its character may appear from the first verse, supposed to be sung by a Hindoo lover, on the approach of his fair one's gazelle, bearing in his month a wreath of flowers, a love-offering from his mistress.

Dost thou not hear the silver bell,

Thro' yonder lime-trees ringing?

"Tis my lady's light gazelle,

To me her love-thoughts bringing;
All the while that silver bell

Around his dark neck ringing.

The words of this air afford another example of Mr. Moore's skill in that mechanical part of his poetical labours on which we have already remarked. The word bell is placed precisely at the notes which can give it the fullest emphasis, and thus call the hearer's attention at once to what seems to us the very peculiar character of the melody. And the seventh and eighth bars afford one of the very few instances in which the termination ng, usually so unmusical, may be employed, not only injuriously, but with great advantage. The short, marked, and equal pauses that occur on the two notes forming these bars, give to the word ringing the same force in illustrating the character of the air, which the word before noticed imparts to the cadence to which it is applied. This air is arranged for one or two voices, and the harmonies are admirably managed.

There is another melody, also arranged for one or two voices; (marked "unknown") and belonging to a class of compositions to which Mr. Moore has always appeared to us extremely happy in his adaptation of poetry. It is of that cast of wild indefinite pensiveness, which so distinguishes many of the national strains of Scotland and Ireland; and reminds one of the old Scotch plaint, "Open the door Lord Gregory," or of "The twisting of the rope,' and "No not more welcome the fairy numbers," of the Irish Me

lodies. The following are the words of the air to which we are now alluding. The second verse, especially the close of it, is peculiarly characteristic of the melody.

'Where are the visions that round me once hover'd,
Forms that bad grace in their shadows alone,
Looks fresh as light from a star just discovered,
And voices that music might take for her own?

66

Time, while I spoke, with his wings resting o'er me,
Heard me say
Where are those visions, oh! where?"
And pointing his wand to the sun-set before me,

Said, with a voice like the hollow wind, "There!"
'Fondly I looked, when the wizard had spoken,
On to the dim shining ruins of day,

And there, in the light, like a talisman broken,
Saw the bright fragments of Hope melt away.
"Oh! lend me thy wings, Time," I hastily uttered,
Impatient to catch the last glimmer that shone;
But scarcely again had the dark wizard fluttered

His wing o'er my head, ere the light all was gone.'

"Wind thy horn my hunter boy," a German air, arranged for four voices, is a bold and lively harmony: and there is a full and plaintive tenderness in "Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken," which we own we were not quite prepared to expect from its title " a French air." We shall close our remarks upon the music of this very interesting collection, by venturing to say, that notwithstanding "Oh! guard our affection," makes a very sweet duet, we have not been able altogether to persuade ourselves of its pure Scottish origin.

But we cannot dismiss the work without noticing a somewhat singular announcement with which the volume opens. It is curious enough to find dealers in music appealing to law as the composer of discord.

In consequence of the attempts which have been repeatedly and recently made to pirate compositions, the copyright of which is vested exclusively in the publisher of this collection, he is reluctantly compelled to adopt this method of declaring his fixed resolution of taking, in every instance, the most prompt and effectual means which the laws afford him, for the protection of his property.

It is now clearly established, that any alterations or embellishments introduced into an old melody, cause the whole composition, containing such alterations or embellishments, to be as much the property of the person who makes them, or his assignee, as if the entire had been originally his own; that the words of a song are as much the property of an author, or his assignee, as the music; and that any colourable use of the title of any such song, or musical piece, is as decidedly a piracy as if the whole piece were copied.

In each of these points the publisher has suffered most severely by invasions of his property; and in his endeavours to check such attempts,

(which seem to have lately increased in number and boldness), he confidently trusts that he will receive the support, not only of the liberal portion of the trade, but of all who respect the rights of authors, and the interests of literature.'

That these complaints are well-founded, we can easily believe. Defective laws are said to be a temptation to plunder; and it would be difficult to point out instances of grosser absurdities in jurisprudence, than are supplied by the whole law of copyright in this country. Acts of Parliament have been passed, from time to time, with the professed aim of securing to authors and publishers their literary property, by imposing certain penalties on pirates. Can there be a greater practical reproach to the legislature, than the fact, that the aggrieved party scarcely ever thinks of availing himself of these statutes, for recovering the penalties? Again, it is impossible that one lawsuit can afford complete redress. The proprietor of copyright may bring an action in some of the courts of law, prove his wrongs, and get his verdict. But there the remedy ceases. If he seek to prevent future robbery by the same person, he must commence operations against the enemy anew in another quarter, and encounter the vexations and miseries of a suit in Chancery and all this, probably, against some bold and perverse pauper! But these are hardships which press equally against authors and publishers of all kinds of literary productions. It would be easy to show that the very nature of the property in which the publishers of music (especially of vocal music) deal, renders them peculiarly liable to losses from piracy, while it leaves them without anything approaching to adequate redress, in the present state of the law. The owner of musical copyright, as to the value of his property, seems rather to resemble a marchande de modes, than a bookseller. The caprice of fashion, or some accident giving publicity to a production of real merit, may enhance, almost instantaneously, the worth of a musical piece one hundred or one thousand fold. And this increased value may endure but for a season; for the popularity suddenly gained, may as suddenly yield to the pretensions of a newer favourite. It is absurd to expect that, in such a case as this, the slow and cumbrous machinery, which the law at present employs to pursue and punish the pirate, can overtake and arrest him during the short period in which his plunder is most destructive to the rightful owner. At no very distant time the general interests of literature must demand from the legislature a revision of the whole law of copyright in this country, of which no class of persons, engaged in the business of publication, have so much reason to complain, as the authors and publishers of vocal music.

ART. IX. Notes of a Tour through France and Italy. 8vo. pp. 416. 148. Hunt and Clarke. 1826.

THERE is no distress more ludicrous than that of a man of thorough mediocrity employed on a subject essentially requiring taste, intelligence, and knowledge. If it be new he is undone by its novelty; his first step plunges him into endless perplexity. If the subject has been tried by others, the distress may be less, but the result is not less amusing. Incapable of forcing a path for himself, he must take the beaten track of all his predecessors; he is the follower in a procession of which the first ranks carry off all the brilliancy, and move before mankind in the fresh costumes and smiling honours of the pageant; while he who cannot get beyond the tail is the inheritor of nothing but the dust. To make himself noticed, he is under the necessity of becoming absurd, and can catch the public eye only through the aid of some prominent foolery.

The man of thorough mediocrity has no conception that any knowledge is necessary for the traveller, beyond the communications of M. Reichard, whose Road-book has been the prolific parent of such a host of degenerate children. Armed with this, a passport, and a common-place book, he is ready to commence his tour, and, pen in hand, commit the most unfeeling depredations on the reading world. His course is so unalterable, that we could lay it down with the clearness of a chart. He is sure to pursue the radical principle of dulness, that the same thing cannot be repeated too often. If his route should lead through Paris, we shall unquestionably have "Pere la Chaise" fully described; a catalogue and criticism of the Louvre; anecdotes of Napoleon, and a theory of the French stage. If he wanders towards the Low Countries, Rubens and the Flemish school, bells and burgomasters, are our inevitable penalty. Bending towards Germany, we have the "Rhine" flowing through a hundred pages, the great Tun of Heidelberg, the history of Hock, and the etchings of Albert Durer. But let him touch on Italy, the grand calamity to the reader, the bore par excellence, and we shall have volumes filled with gondolas, galleries, St. Peter's, Canova, and the Coliseum, when all the trouble of reader and writer might have been saved by merely referring to the page of Reichard.

Yet there can be no question of the interest connected with the name of Italy, and there can be as little of the fact, that hitherto we have not had any work on it sufficiently worthy of the subject. We have had "Tours" and "Recollections," "Sketches" and "Notes," without number, but nothing that could give that clear, comprehensive, and rational account, which can alone satisfy a rational curiosity. Forsyth's book is a mere collection of notes, expressly intended for the construction of a larger performance; Eustace's

volumes have the merit of being written by a scholar and a gentleman; and taken with the work just mentioned, together with Bell's "Observations on Italy," may serve as an instructive guide in the absence of a more perfect one. As to the work before us, it has no sort of merit whatever to recommend it. The writer, Mr. Hazlitt, is evidently, in the first place, totally ignorant of the language, a deficiency which at once cuts him off from all valuable intercourse with the people. All knowledge of Italian history seems equally beyond his idea of the requisites for a traveller, and excepting the prolix and perpetual verbiage of a third-rate connoisseurship, the easy plunder of Vasari and the "Guides," there is scarcely an appearance of his having known anything. The original literature of the country had evidently escaped his education; and of the modern, his measure of knowledge seems to be very limited indeed. It must be needless to say how immeasureably remote those unhappy deficiencies are from the true qualities that make travel honourable to the writer or beneficial to the public; the manly intelligence, the previously furnished and accomplished mind, the vigorous seizure of character, and the clear, tasteful, and powerful style.

The work begins with an "Advertisement," which sets the reader at his ease at once. It states that the volume contains little of history, antiquities, or statistics.' It would have been "more germane to the matter" to say that it contains none. It then proceeds to state, that the only thing which the writer wished to expatiate on more at large was the manners of the country!' Passing by the tautology of the sentence, we are informed that for this purpose a greater length of time, and a more intimate acquaintance with society and the language, would be necessary. Thus, history, antiquities, and statistics having been dispensed with in the first instance, and manners' precluded by want of knowledge of society and the language, we may form an estimate of the work on the author's own showing, and indulge ourselves in the prospect of a Tour through Italy," in which every thing characteristic, interesting, and valuable, is professedly omitted, through the avowed ignorance of the writer.

We had already observed that the traveller of thorough mediocrity always follows the precept of Aristotle with religious obedience, and " begins at the beginning." The present tourist through Italy,' it is true, mercifully spares us the Elephant and Castle, and the history and conversation of the stage-coach; but he loses no time, for he commences by a conversation at the door of the Ship Inn at Brighton. The dialogue is brilliant. A lad offered to conduct us to an inn. "Did he think there was room?" "He was sure of it." "Did he belong to the inn?"—" No, he was from London! In fact he was a young gentleman from town!" This important communication is followed by some