same liberty, I should have held my "farthing candle" as awkwardly as demolish Dumarsais and his systern on this weighty affair, as if he were no another, had not my respect for the wits of Louis the Fourteenth's Augustan better than Ptolemy or Tycho, or comments of no more consequence than siècle induced me to subjoin these illustrious authorities. 1st, Boileau: "II astronomical calculations on the present comet. I am happy to say, "la est difficile de traiter des sujets qui sont à la portée de tout le monde d'une longueur de la dissertation" of M. D. prevents M. G. from saying any more manière qui vous les rende propes, ce qui s'apelle s'approprier un sujet par le on the matter. A better poet than Boileau, and at least as good a chaar tour qu'on y denne." 2dly, Batteux: "Mais il est bien difficile de donner Sevigué, has said,

des traits propres et individuels aux éties purement porsibles." adly, Dacier:

"Il est difficile de traiter convenablement ces caractères que tout le monde and by this comparison of comments it may be perceived how a good des. peut inventer." Mde. de Sevigné's opinion and translation, consisting of may be rendered as perilous to the proprietors.

And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
Her emblem sparkled o'er the minaret:
The groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide,
Where meek Cephisus sheds nis scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The glimmering turret of the gay kiosk,*
And sad and sombre mid the holy calm,
Near Theseus' fane, yon solitary palm;
All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye;
And dull were his that pass'd them heedless by.

Again the Ægean, heard no more afar,
Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war;
Again his waves in milder tints unfold
Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,
Mix'd with the shades of many a distant isle,
That frown, where gentler ocean deigns to smile.

As thus within the walls of Pallas' fane,
I mark'd the beauties of the land and main,
Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore,
Whose arts and arms but live in poets' lore:
Oft as the matchless dome I turn'd to scan,
Sacred to gods, but not secure from man,
The past return'd, the present seem'd to cease,
And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece!

Hours roll'd along, and Dian's orb on high
Had gain'd the centre of her softest sky;
And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod
O'er the vain shrine of many a vanish'd god:
But chiefly, Pallas! thine; when Hecate's glare,
Check'd by thy columns, fell more sadly fair
O'er the chill marble, where the startling tread
Thrills the lone heart like echoes from the dead.
Long had I mused, and treasured every trace
The wreck of Greece recorded of her race,
When, lo! a giant form before me strode,
And Pallas hail'd me in her own abode!

Yes, 'twas Minerva's self; but, ah! how changed
Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she ranged!
Not such as erst, by her divine command,
Her form appeared from Phidias' plastic hand;
Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,
Her idle ægis bore no Gorgon now;
Her helm was dinted, and the broken lance
Seem'd weak and shaftless e'en to mortal glance;
The olive branch, which still she deign'd to clasp,
Shrunk from her touch, and wither'd in her grasp:
And, ah! though still the brightest of the sky,
Celestial tears bedimm'd her large blue eye;
Round the rent casque her owlet circled slow,
And mourn'd his mistress with a shriek of wo!

'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth
Thy country sends a spoiler worse than both.
Survey this vacant, violated fane;
Recount the relics torn that yet remain;
These Cecrops placed, this Pericles adorn'd,*
That Adrian rear'd when drooping Science mourn'd
What more I owe let gratitude attest-
Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest.

That all may learn from whence the plunderer came
The insulted wall sustains his hated name:
For Elgin's fame thus grateful Pallas pleads,
Below, his name-above, behold his deeds;
Be ever hail'd with equal honor here
The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer :
Arms gave the first his right, the last had none,
But basely stole what less barbarians won.
So when the lion quits his fell repast,
Next prowls the wolf, the filthy jackal last:
Flesh, limbs, and blood the former make their own
The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.
Yet still the gods are just, and crimes are cross'd;
See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!
Another name with his pollutes my shrine:
Behold where Dian's beams disdain'd to shine!
Some retribution still might Pallas claim,
When Venus half avenged Minerva's shame."†

She ceased awhile and thus I dared reply,
To soothe the vengeance kindling in her eye:
"Daughter of Jove! in Britian's injured name,
A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim.
Frown not on England; England owns him not;
Athena! no! thy plunderer was a Scot.
Ask'st thou the difference? From fair Phyles

towers

Survey Bœotia; Caledonia's ours.
And well I know within that bastard land ‡
Hath Wisdom's goddess never held command:
A barren soil, where Nature's germs confined
To stern sterility, can stint the mind;
Whose thistle well betrays the niggard earth,
Emblem of all to whom the land gives birth;
Each genial influence nurtured to rest;
A land of meanness, sophistry, and mist.
Each breeze from foggy mount and marshy plain
Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain,
Till, burst at length each wat'ry head o'erflows,
Foul as their soil, and frigid as their snows.
Then thousand schemes of petulance and pride
Despatch her scheming children far and wide;
Some east, some west, some every where but north
In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth.
And thus-accursed be the day and year!-
She sent a Pict to play the felon here.

"Mortal!"-'twas thus she spake "that blush of Yet Caledonia claims some native worth,

shame

Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name;
First of the mighty, foremost of the free,
Now honor'd less by all, and least by me:
Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found.
Seek'st thou the cause of loathing?-look around.
Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,
I saw successive tyrannies expire.

As dull Bœotia gave a Pindar birth;
So may her few, the letter'd and the brave,
Bound to no clime, and victors of the grave,
Shake off the sordid dust of such a land,
And shine like children of a happier strand;

As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place,
Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,
Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched race." Or break the compact which herself hath made;

When shall a modern maid have swains like these! Though he and Pallas never yet were in ends.

"Tis done, 'tis past, since Pallas warns in vain,
The furies seize her abdicated reign:
Wide o'er the realm wave their kindling brands,
And wring her vitals with their fiery hands.
But one convulsive struggle still remains,
And Gaul shall weep ere Albion wears her chains.
The banner'd pomp of war, the glittering files,
O'er whose gay trappings stern Bellona smiles;
The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum,
That bid the foe defiance ere they come;
The hero bounding at his country's call,
The glorious death that decorates his fall,
Swell the young heart with visionary charms,
And bids it antedate the joys of arms.

But know a lesson you may yet be taught,
With death alone are laurels cheaply bought:
Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight,
His day of mercy is the day of fight.
But when the field is fought, the battle won,
Though drench'd with gore, his woes are but begun
His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name;
The slaughter'd peasant and the ravish'd dame,
The rifled mansion and the foe-reap'd field,
Ill suit with souls at home, untaught to yield.
Say with what eye along the distant down
Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?
How view the column of ascending flames
Shake his red shadow o'er the startled Thames ?
Nay, frown not, Albion! for the torch was thine
That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine.
Now should they burst on thy devoted coast,
Go, ask thy bosom who deserves them most.
The law of heaven and earth is life for life,
And she who raised, in vain regrets the strife."

SIR,

TO THE PUBLISHER.

ing great praises of Mrs. H.'s dancing, (she was famous for birthnight minuets in the latter end of the I AM a country gentleman of a midland county. last century,) I unbooted and went to a ball at the I might have been a parliament-man for a certain countess's, expecting to see a country dance, or at borough, having had the offer of as many votes as most, cotillions, reels, and all the old paces to the General T. at the general election in 1812. But I newest tunes. But, judge of my surprise, on arriving, was all for domestic happiness; as, fifteen years to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms half ago, on a visit to London, I married a middle-aged round the loins of a huge hussar-looking gentleman maid of honor. We lived happily at Hornem Hall I never set eyes on before; and his, to say truth, till last season, when my wife and I were invited by rather more than half round her waist, turning the Countess of Waltzaway (a distant relation of my round, and round, and round, to a d-d see-saw spouse) to pass the winter in town. Thinking no up-and-down sort of tune, that reminded me of the harm, and our girls being come to a marriageable "Black joke," only more "affetuoso," till it made (or as they call it, marketable) age, and having be- me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. sides a Chancery suit inveterately entailed upon the By and by they stopp'd a bit, and I thought they family estate, we came up in our old chariot, of which would sit or fall down:-but, no; with Mrs. H. 3 by the by, my wife grew so much ashamed in less than hand on his shoulder, "quam familiariter,"* (as a week, that I was obliged to buy a second-hand Terrence said, when I was at school,) they walked barouche, of which I might mount the box, Mrs. H. says, if I could drive, but never see the inside-that place being reserved for the Honorable Augustus Tiptoe, her partner-general and opera-knight. Hear

• State of the poll, (last day,) 5.

• My Latin is all forgotten, if a man can be said to have forgotten what he never remembered; but I bought my title-page motto of a Catholic priest for a three shilling bank token, after much haggling for the even sixpence. I grudged the money to a papist, being all for the memory of Perceval and "No popery," and quite regretting the downfall of the pope, because we can't burn him any more.

about a minute, and then at it again, like two cock-Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young hussar, chafers spitted on the same bodkin. I asked what The whisker'd votary of waltz and war, all this meant, when, with a loud laugh, a child no His night devotes, despite of spur and boots; older than our Wilhelmina, (a name I never heard but A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes: in the Vicar of Wakefield, though her mother Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz!-beneath whose banners would call her after the Princess of Swappenbach,) A modern hero fought for modish manners; said, "Lord! Mr. Hornem, can't you see they are On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's* fame, valtzing!" or waltzing, (I forget which;) and then Cock'd-fired and miss'd his man-but gain'd his up she got, and her mother and sister, and away they

aim;

went, and round-abouted it till supper-time. Now Hail moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest. so does Mrs. H. (though I have broken my shins, Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz, and four times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid, in The latter's loyalty, the former's wits, practising the preliminary steps in a morning.) In- To "energize the object I pursue," deed, so much do I like it, that having a turn for And give both Belial and his dance their due! rhyme, tastily displayed in some election ballads, and

songs in honor of all the victories, (but till lately I Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine, have had little practice in that way,) I sat down, and (Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine,) with the aid of W. F. Esq. and a few hints from Dr. Long be thine import from all duty free, B. (whose recitations I attend, and am monstrous And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee; fond of Master B.'s manner of delivering his father's In some few qualities alike for hock late successful "D. L. Address,") I composed the Improves our cellar-thou our living stock. following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentiments The head to hock belongs-thy subtler art known to the public, whom, nevertheless, I heartily despise as well as the critics.

I am, Sir, yours, &c. &c.

HORACE HORNEM.

MUSE of the many-twinkling feet! whose charms
Are now extended up from legs to arms;
Terpsichore!-too long misdeem'd a maid-
Reproachful term-bestowed but to upbraid-
Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine,
The least a vestal of the virgin Nine.

Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;
Mock'd, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued;
Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly,
If but thy coats are reasonably high;

Thy breast-if bare enough-requires no shield;
Dance forth-sans armour thou shalt take the field.
And own-impregnable to most assaults

Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz."

• "Glance their many-twinkling feet."-Gray.

1 To rival Lord W.'s, or his nephew's, as the reader pleases: the one gined a pretty woman, whom he deserved, by fighting for; and the other has been fighting in the Peninsula many a long day, " by Shrewsbury clock,"

Intoxicates alone the heedless heart;
Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,
And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.

Oh Germany! how much to thee we owe,
As heaven-born Pitt can testify below,
Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,
And only left us thy d-d debts and dances!
of subsidies and Hanover bereft,
We bless thee still-for George the Third is left!
Of kings the best-and last, not least in worth,
For graciously begetting George the Fourth.
To Germany, and highnesses serene,
Who owe us millions-don't we owe the queen ?
To Germany, what owe we not besides ?
So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides;
Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,
Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud:
Who sent us-so be pardon'd all her faults-
A dozen dukes-some kings-a queen-and Waltz.

But peace to her-her emperor and diet,
Though now transferr'd to Buonaparte's "fiat!"
Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say,
How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?

without gaming any thing in that country but the title of "the Great Lord," Borne on the breath of Hyperborean gales, and "the Lord," which savors of profanation, having been hitherto applied From Hamburg's port, (while Hamburg yet had

only to that Being to whom "Te Deums" for carnage are the rankest

plasphemy. It is presumed the general will one day return to his Sabine
zm; here

"To tame the genius of the stubborn plain,
Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain!"

The lord Peterborough conquered continents in a summer; we do more

mails,)

Ere yet unlucky Fame-compell'd to creep
To snowy Gottenburgh-was chill'd to sleep;
Or starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise,

we contrive both to conquer and lose them in a shorter season. If the "great Heligoland! to stock thy mart with lies; Lord's "Cincinnatian progress in agriculture be no speedier than the propor- While unburnt Moscow* yet had news to send, tional average of time in Pope's couplet, it will, according to the farmer's Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend,