It is Cicero, I believe, who says "_naturâ, ad modes ducimur;_" and the
abundance of wild, indigenous airs, which almost every country, except
England, possesses, sufficiently proves the truth of his assertion. The
lovers of this simple, but interesting kind of music, are here presented
with the first number of a collection, which, I trust, their contributions
will enable us to continue. A pretty air without words resembles one of
those _half_ creatures of Plato, which are described as wandering in
search of the remainder of themselves through the world. To supply this
other half, by uniting with congenial words the many fugitive melodies
which have hitherto had none,--or only such as are unintelligible to the
generality of their hearers,--it is the object and ambition of the present
work. Neither is it our intention to confine ourselves to what are
strictly called National Melodies, but, wherever we meet with any
wandering and beautiful air, to which poetry has not yet assigned a worthy
home, we shall venture to claim it as an _estray_ swan, and enrich our
humble Hippocrene with its song.