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My dear Mr Editor,

of the secret of the ease and freedom Your last Number I've read it o'er, in the great writers a century, and, I mean, what appeared in January,– There are some good things in it,

still more, two centuries back. They

had infinite genius, no doubt, but But I'm teazed every minute With your misprints,—in that you

don't

they did not scruple to write whatever

came into their heads, and hence vary.--

their astonishing boldness and facility. Dunkeld's reverend bishop,

Shakespeare would by no ineans have Whom too often you dish up,

been the poetical wonder that he is, if You have made to say etlis for etlis, he had not given vent to all the nonAnd Virgil's ruinam

sense that passed through his brain, (Pray,' who could divine him ?) Rumain comes out from your kettles.

no less than to the profound wis

dom and the boundless fancy that On Williams's volume,

had there their local habitation. But Page 50, second column, At the top, you've got“ matter of arrange- these wise editors and critics of all

nobody can write nonsense now, før ment" Meo periculo,

sorts are for ever on the watch to fall Read“ amusement,” you pickle you,

foul of every one's nonsense but their Or else we'll suspect you of derangement.

own-so that I really have some sa

tisfaction in overhauling this poetical But your blunders they flow thick

trash, dull though it be. I have here Round fair Aberbrothick. Thus we have “ Griffith so often granted

dipped for another lot-What is this

,

Mr Editor ? It is entitled SHAKEAs an honest chronicler."The passage alone I clear

SPEARE !-A sonnet, I think. By “ quoted” the word plainly wanted.

Edit. 0! I assure you this is any

thing but nonsense. Ís it not signed This blunder is vile, and errs

H. H. L,? The very same! I shall Worse than the Highlander's,

read this, without fear as to the reWho for “ in those days there were giants," sult. Read “ Grants,” in his Bible, Thinking aught else a libel

SHAKESPEARE. On his clan, both the chieftains and clients. High art thou plac'd, sweetest of poets : Then Front-de-Beuf's chaplain,

high Who was no slender sapling,

Thine epitaph is written : thy great fame But with eating and drinking died

Lives in the winds, and thy most noble

crapu• lous, Is " waked” (read “ evoked,")

Stands printed fair upon the eternal sky.

A crown hast thou of flowers, that never For may I be choaked

die ; If in Purgatory poor souls can nap, alas !

And the mild accents of the southern Next Moore the astrologer,

breeze, (Such is your knowledge, or

The murmur of the melancholy trees, Shall I say wilful perversity ?)

And babbling brooks, talk of thy memory. A purchase will lose, you add,

- 'Tis fit it should be thus, for thou hast No matter how few, so had

hung He, of purchasers never a scarcity. A beauty round the flower, and music giEnough for the present,

Unto the trees--the brooks the winds,If this month's number isn't

and Aung From blunders more free and emunctum,

Immortal colours on the face of heaven. Why then you're not fit,

Thou of all things didst speak most graIn chair Editorial to sit,

ciously, So says, your's truly,

'Tis fit that all things now celebrate thee. OMNE TULIT PUNCTUM.

H. H. L. Jambres. Something too much of Jambres. Bravo! Mr Collier would this. Not enough of point for Punc- have given every line in his Fitzgeftum neither, methinks. Do you re- frey, his Lodge, and all the rest of his member Swift's pun upon your cor manes—(for it is really a sort of phanrespondent's signature ?-It is in the tasmagoria that he has made flit bedying speech of Tom Ashe the Pun- fore us)-to have found these verses ster-Omne tulit pun-Tom.

with the delightful cyphers 1602 unJannes. Swift owed a good deal of der them, and a signature denoting his success to his effrontery, as well as them to have been Kit Marlow's, Ben his wit ; and that, by the way, is part Jonson's, or George Peele's.

name

ven

Did

vers :

vers,

Wordsworth write these lines ? I Jambres. Think of it? Why, realknow no other modern poet whom ly, I do not very well know what to they would suit so well. Or, perhaps, think. It is sublime, undoubtedly, they really are antique. Let me see and the last stanza, in addition to its H. L. must, I think, be Milton's other sublime qualities, has all the friend, Harry Lawes, “ the priest of sublimity of obscurity. I think it is Phæbus' quire,"—so that Mr Collier well worthy of the age of Queen Bess, need have no scruple to transfer them and would have made a great figure into his next edition, and they will in Mr Collier. For instance, here is be the finest gem in it.

a stanza from the angels-soul-enJannes. Was there not a sonnet chanting rimes” of Fitzgeffrey, which translated from Petrarch at the end of is by no means so good. your last Number, with the same sig. Live, ô live ever, ever-living spirites, nature?

Where ever-live the sp'rites of vertuous li. Edit. Yes there was, and from the same hand—but, as Hamlet says, “I Heavens have your soules, the earth your must hold my tongue.” Give them fame inherits ; to Harry Lawes, it you will, and But when earth's massie apple turnes to Dante shall give Fame leave to set him

shivers, higher

And fire conioines that nature now disse. Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing, Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.

That holds your souls shall then your

fames containe, Jambres. But what have we got

For earth shall end, your praise shall now? Two little stanzas without a

still remaine. title! Let me see-they are prefaced by a billet-doux-Ah! a lady, Mr —“That holds your souls shall then Editor-the name, too, at full length your fames containe,” is quite as mys-I shall read it aloud.

terious as “Thy living glories throned Edit. Do not now, I beg you.— a sulject world.” Your fair friend's Really this is very impertinent-pray, idea of Rome being now only a “ magentlemen

jestic spectre” is really fine-I cannot Jannes. I must have a peep, as say so much for Fitzgeffrey's conceit Sir Peter Teazle says.

Ah ! Jo- of the earth being a massie apple." seph, whom have we got behind the

Jannes was at this moment looking screen?

over one of the printed pages of our Edit. Really, gentlemen, this is Magazine, lying on our table. “Here,” quite intolerable- I will read you the says he, is a very curious poem enverses, but the lady's name pardon titled “the Marmaiden of Clyde.”

It is in a dialect of the ancient Scotch Jambres, (reading.) My dear language, which is to me quite new, friend, I am reading Williams just but as far as I can comprehend it, it now, and I send you a momentary is very expressive. I rather think the glance on the subject."

poet, who certainly possesses a fine Edit. (seizing the paper.) I tell vein of fancy, and a power of vivid you, you shall not see another word painting, with much fairy lore, has but there is nothing tender here, you

huddled together all the queer words are satisfied of that. The poem is he could find, as Chatterton has done quite in the heroic strain, and relates in Rowley, and that seems to me the to the glories of ancient Rome.

fault of his diction. He has been

mighty sparing of his glossary. Wall0 Italy, how rich a field art thou, ee, Wanyoch, Glittie, what the deuce Of war the trophies, and the laurel thine ! do such words stand for? They are The Muses o'er thy fallen altars bow, quite as bad as Gawin Douglas's aboTo feel th' expiring flame on thy illus- minations and barbarisms. But I trious shrine.

beg your pardon, Mr Editor, I beColossal Rome, majestic spectre now,

ljeve I am here treading upon one Thy living glories throned a subject world, of your corny toes. However, I hope Time plucked the laurel from thy haughty you will take Punctum's advice, and

dish up" no more of the “ bishop." And thou, imperial Rome, to desolation Edit. As for that, time will shew. hurled !

I am happy, however, to give you an -What do you think of it?

additional paper of glossarial explana

me

tion, which came since the poem in Cowder, á boat that sails pleasantly. A

question was printed. Here it is. cowdle, to cowdle, a cowdler, diminutives You will find in it, too, another spe- expressive of rather more motion produced cimen of the ingenious author's fairy by the waves. All these words are words

of endearment. lore: Additional Notes to the Marmaiden of

Jannes. Very charming certainly! Clyde.

my lovely cowdler! no female heart Wall-ee, S. a spring in a quagmire. could resist so warm an expression. Aichan', part. pres. of to aich, to echo.

Have you any tender poems? These Craigie, a. craggy. Forridden, part. past. worn out with rid- That must be very pathetic! I shall

are what I like best.“ To a Fly." ing. Yowit, pres, of to yow, to caterwaul.

read it to you, though I doubt I shall Houit, pres. of to hou, to howl as an owl. be choked with tears before I get to Aspait, adv. in flood.

the end. Swow, s. the dull and heavy sound produced by the regurgitations of the dashing

TO Á FLY. waves of a river in a flood, or of the sea in a storm. To swow, to emit such a sound. BUZZING gently in my ear,

Lashan', part. pres. of to lash, a neuter is't a fly that now I hear? verb, expressive of the pouring of an irre. No, it cannot, on the green sistible torrent; as a lashan rain, a lushan Snow is still yet to be seen : spait.

Frost, at morn and evening hour,

At this season holds his power, Athort, pres. athwart, across.

Dead-lown, a. without the slightest breath Yet again I hear thy hum : of wind.

Why so early hast thou come ? Doupan, part. pres. of to doup, to bow Mid-day sun may warmly shine,

Cold at even is our clime. suddenly down.

Be not tempted foolish thing
Mowr, s. mock, jeer, flout.
Wanyoch, a. wan.

By our seeming early spring;
Glittie, a. oozy; glit, ooze; glittilie, Not to trust to outward show.-

Thou enough of life mayst know, adv, in the manner of ooze; glittiness, Hah! avaunt thee, come not near, S. ooziness,

Lammer-wine, amber-wine. This ima. From the candle clearly steer, ginary liquor was esteemed a sort of elixir Distant farther wing thy flight, of immortality, and its virtues are celebra- Tempt not thus the treacherous light ; ted in the following infallible recipe.

Bright it is, but not the ray

That warms thee on the summer's day. Drink ae coup o' the lammer-wine, Rest thee there. Upon the ceiling,

An' the tear is nae mair in your e'e. Free from all unpleasant feeling,
An' drink twae coups o' the lamrer-wine, Thou mayst sleep, till warmer sun
Nae dule nor pine ye'll dree.

Call thee out thy race to run.
An' drink three coups o' the lammer-wine, Sleep, little fly, thy rest shall be
Your mortal life's awa.

Undisturbed,—from danger free,
An' drink four coups o' the lammer-wine, This guardian duty rest with me.
Ye'll turn a fairy sma'.

March 14, 1819.
An' drink five coups o' the lammer-wine,
O' joys ye've rowth an' wale.

You talked of Wordsworth lately, An' drink sax coups o' the lammer-wine, this smacks of him a little too, for he Ye'll ring ower hill an' dale.

has all styles, from the sublime of An' drink seven coups o' the lammer-wine, Milton to the namby pamby of Am

Ye may dance on the milky way. An' drink aught coups o' the lammer.wine, he thinks thein all equally good. And

brose Philips ; and the droll thing is

, Ye may ride on the fire-Haught blae. An' drink nine coups o' the lammer-wine, reason good, because they are all Wil. Your endday ye'll ne'er see ;

liam Wordsworth's. An' the nicht is gane, an' the day has come

Jambres. Here is a poem, I think, Will never set to thee.

will match your "Fly.” It is a win

ter scene too: how tenderly these Feelless, a. without sense or feeling, not poets feel for the whole animal creation! in the metaphorical but literal acceptation 4 The Robin Red Breast!” There is of the words.

To Cowd, v. n. to float slowly, with the infinite pathos and simplicity, I see, motion affected a little by slight waves, as

in this little piece also. The subject the boat cowds finely awa. A cowd, s. a

is common, to be sure, but there is short and pleasant sail, a single gentle inuch originality in the mode of treatcroking or motion, produced by a wave. ing it,-la voila.

THE ROBIN RED BREAST. E'en with the song that greets the new-born The Red Breast trig, on yonder twig,

year, Is chanting pensively;

And hails the day that gave å monarch

birth, By nature drest, in scarlet vest, The prettiest bird we see.

That self-same day, whose chariot wheels

have roll'd He flies about, in hopes, no doubt,

Through many a circling year, with gloOur bounty he may share ;

rious toil, When waters freeze, and frosted trees,

Up to the axles in refulgent gold, Drive Robin to despair.

And crape, and gems, and silk, and flowers, But see he comes to pick the crumbs

and foil. We at the window lay,

That self-same Sun no longer dares Take, charming bird, what we afford, Bequeath his honours to his heirs, Till comes the summer day.

And bid the dancing hours supply, To verdant woods, and falling floods,

As erst, with kindred pomp his absence Ye then will wing your way,

from the sky. To sweetly sing where hair-bells spring,

Por ever, at his lordly call, · Perched on some flowery spray.

Uprose the spangled Night,

Leading, in gorgeous splendour bright, But what is this, Mr Editor, you are The Minuet and the Ball. asleep !—The truth is, we had drop- And Ball each frolic hour may bring ped over, the ding-dong sing-song of That revels through the maddening spring, these last verses fairly overcame us Shaking with hurried step the painted floor;

But Minuets are no more !!! “ Burst his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him like a rattling peal of No more the well taught

feet shall tread

The figure of the mazy Z. thunder,”

The beau of other times will mourn (cried Jannes)-What have we got As gone, and never to return, here?

The graceful bow, the curtsy low, Edit. O! a poem which lately came The Hoating forms, that undulating glide into my hands, and is said to have been Like anchor’d vessels o'er the swelling tide, written a good many years ago, by a very Which rise and fall alternate as they go, ingenious lady, but is believed never

Now bent the knee, now lifted up the toe! to have been published. Some of the The side-long step, that works its even allusions are obscure, and I think the The slow pas grave, and slower balancé!-.. copy which I have (probably the sixth Still with fix'å gaze, he eyes the imagin’d or seventh through a succession of fe

fair, male hands, each adding some new And turns the corner with remembered care. slip of the pen) is not very accurately Not so his partner : from her tang!'d train given. There is a word left out in To free her captive foot she strives in vain ; one place altogether. But with these Her tangļd train the struggling captive allowances, it is a lively performance, holds, and as it will afford work to my friend Like great Alcides, in its fatal folds. Punctum to expiscate the true read- The laws of gallantry his aid demandings, I shall e'en print it as it stands: The laws of etiquette withhold his hand. Would you like to hear it read ? “ By

Such pains, such pleasures, now alike are

o'er, all means," replied Jannes,

" what is

And beaus and etiquette shall soon exist the subject ?

Edit. It is a lamentation over the In their stead, behold advancing Minuet; and if you please, gentlemen, Modern men and women dancing: we shall close our present conversation Step and dress alike express, with it, but if you have any amuse Above, below, from top to toe, ment in this kind of trilling, we can

Male and female awkwardness : decameron it together some other day." Without a hoop, without a ruffle, -To this our friends assented, and One eternal jig and shuffle. having assisted us to huddle upour dis- Where's the air ? and where's the gait ? ordered papers, left us to repose, after Where's the feather in the hat ? we had read them,

Where's the frizzed toupee ? and where,
Oh where's the powder for the hair !

Where all the former graces,
Now cease the exulting strain,

And where three quarters of their faces And bid the warbling lyre complain,

With half the forehead lost, and half the Heave the soft sigh, and drop the tender

chin, tear,

We know not where they end, or where And mingle notes far other than of mirth, begin.

no more.

THE DEATH OF THE MINUET.

zette.

Mark the pair, whom fav'ring fortune For ever quits, no more to roam
At the envied top shall place,

From proud Augusta's regal dome.
Humbly they the rest importune

Ah! not unhappy who securely rest To vouchsafe a little space ;

Within the sacred precincts of a court : Not the graceful to wave in, Who there their timid steps will dare to Or the silken robe expand,

arrest, All superfluous motion waving,

While wands shall guide them, and gold Idly drops the lifeless hand.

sticks support? Her dow..cast eyes the modest beauty But no! these eyes, with tears of horror Sends, as doubtful of their skill,

wet, To see if feet perform their duty,

Read its death-warrant in the Court GaAnd their endless task fulfil, Footing, footing, footing still ;

No ball to night! Lord Chamberlain proWhile the rest in hedge-row state,

claims, All insensible to sound,

No ball to-night, shall grace thy roof, St With more than human patience wait,

James, Like trees fast rooted to the ground. No ball, the Times, the Sun, the Star reNot such as erst with sprightly motion

peal, To distant music, stirred their stumps, The Morning paper, and the Evening And tripped from Pelion to the ocean,

sheet! Performing avenues and clumps ;

Through all the land, the direful news is What time old Jason's ship the Argo,

spread, Orpheus fiddling at the helm,

And all the land has mourn'd the Minuet From Colchis bore the golden cargo,

dead, Dancing o'er the azure realm.

As when Dumorgue, or either Spence would Yet why recur to ancient story,

draw Or balls of modern date?

The deep-fix'd grinder from its native jaw, Be mine to trace the minuet's fate, Ere yet with an exterminative jerk, And weep its fallen glory!

The griping pincers do their horrid work, To ask who rung the passing knell The shining steel its polish'd edge inserts, If Vestris came the solemn dirge to hear And deeply pierces, while it scarcely hurts, Genius of Valonis ! did'st thou hover near? So Power completes, but Satire sketch'd Shade of Le Pin, and spirit of Gardel ! I saw their angry forms arise

And Cecil ends what Bunbury began. And wreaths of smoke involve the skies, Above St James's steeple ! I heard them curse our heavy heel,

CURIOUS ACCOUNT OF AN INUNDAThe Irish Step, the Highland keel,

TION OF THE RHINE. And all the re-united people ! To the dense air the curse adhesive clung, [In our Number for August 1819, we gave Repeated since by many a modish tongue, an account of the two last eruptions In words that may be said, but never shall of Mount Etna, from the pen of a very

intelligent correspondent who was an What cause untimely urg'd the Minuet's eye-witness. The same gentleman fafate?

voured us, some time ago, with an acDid wars subvert the manners of the state? count of another terrible phenomenon Did savage nations give the barbarous law, of quite an opposite nature, of which, in The Gaul Cisalpine and the Gonaquas ? his early life, he was also a witness, and Its fall was destined to a polish'd land, one of the sufferers from it. We owe A sportive pencil, and a courtly hand ; him an apology for having omitted the They left a name, which Time itself might insertion of so interesting a relation spare,

much longer than we ought to have done, To grinding organs and the dancing bear. but we trust, that he will not, on that On Avon's banks, where sportive laugh account, refuse to send us occasionally Careless Pleasure's sons and daughters, the history of any curious events which Where licalth the sick and aged quaff may have occurred to him in the course From good King Bladud's healing waters, of his varied life.] While Fancy sketch'd, and Humour group'd,

During some part of my youth, my Then it sicken'd, then it droop'd :

father resided at Mülheim in GerSadden'd with laughter, wasted by a sneer, many, a pretty little town on the And the long Minuet shorten'd its career! right bank of the Rhine, about three With solemn gait, and musing pace, miles from Cologne, which is situated The indignant mourner quits the place, on the opposite side higher up, and

where the river makes an elbow. In Go to the Devil and shake yourself. 1783, or 1784, (I do not recollect ex

the plan,

be sung.

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