them into contempt with the vulgar, as to make the vulgar look forward, with sanguine hopes, to stations which would otherwise have never entered into their contemplation?-This sword has two edges, and does too much work! Secondly, with respect to the Regency, have not our Ministers, in the plenitude of their wisdom or imbecility, chosen to appoint the Prince of Wales Regent, with such restrictions (not to call them suspicions) as show, according to their principle of possessing the right of election, that he is the last of all persons on whom that election should have fallen? Does not the Crown of England require the whole of the power, influence, and splendour, permitted to the King?-and if so, should he, who represents him, and has all his offices to fulfil, at any time, but especially at this momentous crisis, be vested with less?It is necessary, or it is not.-What do they seem to think, and how much does it prove? Thirdly, touching the admission of proxies in the House of Lords, which Horace might, without satire, say, communi sensu planè caret; and that the Noble Lords themselves may add the rest "Eheu, Quam temerè in nosmet legem sancimus iniquam !” If the judgment of the absent is not only taken, but is often clearly the means of deciding the most important questions, what are men of common understanding to think of the parade of heated debates and elaborate arguments, addressed to what is called the sense of the House ?-Surely this proves a little too much! The list of unlucky proofs might be swelled to a volume; but they need no index, and I shall add no more. Among the portents and miracles of the "anmus mirabilis," mirabilis," we are told that "black cow's gave white milk."-I feel that this hardy assertion (though sworn to) must needs be rejected with contempt by the faith of these times; for we have a similar prodigy, in which there is an equal share of truth, namely, that paper is nothing more than paper; but, though every body gives it credit, nobody will believe it! Seeking into the cause of this strange infidelity, I find that it happened once before, and history ascribes it to conjuration-The author of the Persian Letters, speaking of Louis XIV. says, "Ce Roi était un magicien, qui faisant accroire à ses sujets, qui du papier était de Pargent;" i. e. That King was a conjuror, who made his subjects believe that paper was money. Temple, Feb. 13. "A POET AND POVERTY. [From the Morning Post, Feb. 15.] EPIGRAM ON A FOP. [From the British Press, Feb. 15.] THOSE painted cheeks and languid eyes } TEMPORA TEMPORA* MUTANTUR. [From the Morning Post, Feb. 18.] A SENATOR, vers'd in old classical lore, The works of Joe Miller I mean-nothing more, Has told how the Tories, just losing their places, Were surcharg'd by the barbers, who shav'd their long faces :But now (though still in) not a Tory, 't is fear'd, Will meet with one barber to shorten his beard; For the Whigs, disappointed and plung'd in despair, Have torn from their nobs ev'ry morsel of hair; So they 're forc'd (though their purses a grievous hard tax on) To impress each a barber to make him a caxon. LINES ON A HIBERNIAN, WHO DREAMT THAT HE WAS ASLEEP. " [From the same.] HOW this!" says Joe, "it doth most curious seem, Indeed, friend Pat, it is not fair in you To get just twice the sleep that others do." Truly," quoth Pat, " I have not slept, dear Joe; I only dreamt I was asleep, you know." TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE. [Feb. 20.] SIR, THE HE following lines are detached from an unfinished Poem, which probably will never see the light; but as this fragment is so much in the spirit of some * Tempora, scilicet, capitis, we suppose; and, as it is not improbable the heads of some persons may be turned by vexation at recent events, the part may be intended to imply the whole, both interior and exterior-" pro parte synecdoche totum," as the Westminster Grammar speaks. late late opinions of the Great Man, I am tempted to transmit it to you, as an earnest of what will be the settled sentiment of posterity. I am, &c. Ρεπμίλλειος. WHEN Chatham's son had rais'd himself to power Flash'd not conviction on his venal friends Or Or morbid member of the commonweal, The evil spirit, if it ever rose. " Nay-but he sat the pilot at the helm, His country's bark safe guiding through the storm Ay, that were praise beyond the power of words, Than glorious safety, when his martial mind Long |