* * * * *
Musical notes.
I say! Ysaye! Why say? Why not say that YSAYE is a grand Yolinist, since he is this; and, as ’ARRY would observe, “No error!” and whoever says the contrary, is not speaking the absolute truth, but “Ysaye Worsay.” The Yolinist had the advantage of the co-operation of a fine Orchestra, under the Magic Wand of Conductor COWEN.
On the 27th, Heard young JEAN GERARDY, Little boy, but player hardy, Not the slightest Lardy-Dardy, Not yet out of care of “Guardy,” Heard him Lundi, not on Mardi. But, whene’er he plays, your Bardy, Always spry, and never tardy, Will again hear JEAN GERARDY.
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GENERAL SUMMARY OF CARICATURES OF MR. GLADSTONE.—“Collarable Imitations.”
* * * * *
[Illustration: FASHION’S FLORALIA: OR, THE URBAN QUEEN OF THE MAY.]
* * * * *
FASHION’S FLORALIA;
OR, THE URBAN QUEEN OF THE MAY.
(A Song of the Season, a very long way after Herrick.)
“London town is another affair
Since HERRICK wrote his perfect rhymes.”
MORTIMER COLLINS.
True, sadly true, shaper of rattling rhymes,
London hath changed with process of the
times.
Aurora now may “throw
her faire
Fresh-quilted colours through
the aire,”
But our conditions atmospheric
Are not as in the days of
HERRICK.
Nathless the Muse to-day may
see
Flora at urban revelry.
See how the goddess trippeth from the
West,
Fragrant, though something fashionably
drest;
The Season waketh at her tread,
Art lifteth a long-drooping
head;
Music doth make a merry din.
’Tis profanation, keeping
in,
Whenas a hundred Shows upon this day
Spring, lightly as the lark to fetch in
May.
Rise, Nymph, put on fresh finery, and
be seen,
To come forth like the Spring-time, fresh
and green!
And gay as Flora. Art
is there,
With flowing hyacinthine hair.
Fear not, the throng will
strew
Largess abundant upon you,
When Burlington’s great Opening
Day is kept.
Gone is thy Grosvenor rival, not unwept;
But a New Nymph, with footing
light,
Trips it beside thee, nor
hath night
Shadowed sweet “Aquarelle”
whose skill,
As of a Water-Nymph, is still
Well to the fore. Pipe up! playing
means paying,
When Fashion’s Urban Flora goes
a-Maying.
Come, my CORINNA, come; and, coming, mark
How each street turns a grove, each square
a park,
Made green and trimmed with
trees: see how
The pinky hawthorn decks the
bough!
Each Bond Street porch, or
door, ere this
Of Art a Tabernacle is;
Nor Art alone. With May is interwove