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rous description. Satyrs gambled along the walls, and thoughtless nymphs were seen very much exposed among the dark recesses of an ancient forest. Agenor endeavoured to find out the meaning of his situation, but could not. Presently the prætor's wife entered. She took his hand with much cordiality, and said, My dear Agenor, pardon me for this detention: I cannot let you depart, without some advice concerning the perils of this bad city; for I perceive you are a stranger. Young men sometimes endeavour to get near the emperor in public places, in order to see his person. Beware of doing so. It is impossible to say what might happen if you should attract his notice; for his power is absolute, and mischief is always in his thoughts. Do not associate with gladiators and charioteers, who seldom leave an obolus in the pockets of their companions; nor with Greeks, who are sad impostors. Again, your handsome person may chance to captivate some of our matrons, who love gallantry; but although they should smile on you from their windows, and beckon with a look of insinuation, do not stop to talk with them; otherwise you will get entangled in a thousand scrapes. You will be left in the lurch, while they go to intrigue with some other person. Avoid all this, and come often back to visit me,' said the prætor's wife, laying her hand upon his shoulder: Be assured I will prove as good a friend as can be met with in Rome."

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"Agenor was a good deal astonished. Perhaps he would have been at a loss what to say; but the prætor himself was that moment heard lumbering up stairs, and hemming at intervals, in a state of intoxication. His wife started up, and bade Agenor good night. She then opened a private passage down to the street, and gently pushed him out, saying, with a smile, Farewell at present; come back to-morrow, and I shall introduce you to the prætor, who is a very worthy man.'

"When Agenor came away, the streets were still as crowded as ever, but afforded more examples of the debaucheries and vices of Rome. The town which Cato loved was now sadly altered. Every god and every virtue had left the place; and although their temples remained as beautiful as in better times, they were filled with scoffing instead of prayer. Agenor had lived as yet uncontaminated; and the conduct of the prætor's wife that night had not seduced him, because he thought of Phrosine. Phrosine's image engrossed his attention so much that he could scarcely find the house where he meant to sleep; and when he lay down, the fantastic dreams of youth continued hovering about his pillow.

"Next morning he took a walk through the town. He viewed the public buildings, the places noted in history, the books of the Sybils, which he could not understand, and the charming productions of the fine arts, VOL. III.

worth all the rest put together. Many a beauteous head, and many a voluptuous form of alabaster, awoke in him the softest feeling of delight; many a group of Bacchanals taught him a joyful indifference ; and many a picture bore a motto from the songs of Horace, which told him that life is short, and that we should gather its roses while fate leaves them in our power. Xeno's philosophy had once been his pride; but a softness of heart now crept in upon him; and the feelings of the Stoics died away before other feelings, which rendered him a fitter inhabitant for modern Rome. In the morning he had scrupled about returning to the prætor's house; but now he said, I must go back to see Phrosine.'

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"In the mean time, as it was yet early in the forenoon, he repaired to the circus, where he found the citizens already placed in thousands along its far-spreading benches, and some of them distinguished by very magnificent attire. The games began. Racers and combatants appeared on the vast arena. Trumpets were sounded. A number of tigers, newly brought from confinement, scattered the dust in their terrific gambols. Blood began to be shed, and acclamations to rise from the populace. The wild animals increased the noise in receiving their mortal stabs, and the gladiators fought and died with enthusiasm; for the sweet music of applause rung in their ears until they could not hear it any longer.

"Agenor grew much interested in these fatal sports. Nevertheless, he fell sometimes into reveries about Phrosine; and in glancing his eye over the long rows of the circus, he observed the prætor's wife attended not only by her husband, who was a corpulent figure with a red nose, and a countenance full of good-natured sensuality, but also by some of the handsomest men in Rome.

"Agenor thought there was no need of increasing the number. He therefore left the circus, and went to see if Phrosine had been left at home. Fortunately this was the case. He found her watering some plants in an open gallery, and removing such of their leaves as had withered by too powerful a sun. She recognised him with blushes of gladness; and, after a short time, Agenor engaged in dressing the flowers along with her. These young people found this occupation a very pleasing one. Their smiles met every moment over hyacinths and myrtles; and their words were breathed in a low voice among exhalations of perfume. When Phrosine thought the jars were ill arranged, Agenor transposed them so as to produce a finer grouping of the blossoms; and when their pitcher of water was exhausted, this languishing boy and girl, who had already forgotten all conventional forms of behaviour, went, arm in arm, to the fountain down in the garden, to get more. There, at a basin of marble, which foamed to the brim, they replenished G

their vessel. Some drops of the spray came dashing on Phrosine's white shoulders; and Agenor used the freedom to wipe them off with a corner of her garment. Phrosine submitted with a slight struggle; but all this took place in silence, for the feelings of the parties were by far too serious to suit with jests and compliments. Afterwards they leant for a long time, side by side, against the trunk of a chesnut. Their souls were lost in musing, and their eyes were fixed on the shadows of branches that played over the sunny ground before them. Ah! how pleasing is a country life,' said Phrosine, I sometimes wish that I could get leave to spend my time in Calabria, or Apulea, or some of those delightful provinces where the ground is covered with yellow sheaves, and where the days are so beautiful, that if a person merely walks about in the open air, it is enough to make him regardless of all other pleasures. I do not like the town or its inhabitants. Our visitors are so coldhearted, that I am treated as a child if I be have kindly to them. They laugh at any person who is simple enough to feel attachment even for themselves. Again, there is no peace or security in Rome; for every one is afraid of being cruelly insulted by the emperor, or some of his favourites; and their brutality renders so many precautions necessary, that I am inclined more and more to envy the inhabitants of those distant provinces who are out of its reach. Pray, from what province do you come?' From no other than Calabria,' replied Agenor. I have a small farm there; but a country life is sometimes insipid, and I came to Rome from curiosity and desire of change. Ah, Phrosine! if I had not come to Rome, I should never have enjoyed the happiness of being near you; and now, if I go back to Calabria, I shall not know what to do with my heart.'

"Keep your heart with sufficient care,' said Phrosine, blushing, and it will give you no trouble. Those deep and lasting attachments which have been described by the poets, are no longer to be found in Rome. It is now the fashion to change rapidly from one object of admiration to another, and, indeed, never to allow the feelings to be seriously engaged at all. The example of Nero, and his detestable court, has annihilated every thing amiable, and left us nothing but selfishness, profligacy, and indifference.?

"Then you must seek elsewhere,' said Agenor, for a heart which is worthy of you. Rome, as you describe it, can never be the theatre of your happiness.'

"Oh! I could endure it well enough,' said Phrosine, provided I were agreeably situated at home. But the prætor's wife is jealous of the attention I receive from her visitors, and sometimes treats me with a degree of harshness which it is difficult to support. She is still fond of admiration, as you may observe, and imagines that I wish to encroach upon her share.'

"There can be no doubt of it,' replied Agenor. It is evident she wishes you out of her family.'

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"But what is worse,' said Phrosine with tears in her eyes, and at the same time laying her hand upon his shoulder, would you believe it, Agenor? I can hardly be sure that my own uncle, if circumstances should entice him, will not deliver me up to this monster who calls himself the Emperor. It seems he had observed me with particular attention somewhere in public, and has repeatedly inquired about me since. The prætor is at present in favour; but if he were to evade any of Nero's orders, there would at once be an end to his farther good fortune, and perhaps his life.'

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Then why, my beautiful Phrosine,' said our youth, gently encircling her waist, why do you remain here to endanger your uncle's life? Would it not be much wiser, and more consistent with your duty, to marry a poor husbandman who adores you, and set out for Calabria, where you will enjoy all the pleasures of a charming climate, and never hear of this wicked Emperor any more? Surely this proposal need only be stated, to make you at once perceive its propriety.'

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Oh, but my aunt,' said Phrosine, sobbing, in great agitation,—' she would not approve of my conduct.'

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Nor would you approve of hers, if you knew all the particulars of it,' replied Agenor. Wrap your veil about your head, and we shall get out by the garden door, which opens into some of the back lanes. A couple of mules can soon be purchased; and in a short time we will be far from Rome.'

"Oh no, it is impossible,' said Phrosine, I cannot go just now.'

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"Just now is the very best time,' replied Agenor. Every person is at present in the circus, where Nero performs as a charioteer; and neither the prætor nor his wife can return till the games are finished. Come along,' said our youth, employing a little gentle violence.

"Oh no, it is impossible,' said Phrosine, weeping and struggling, and gradually allowing herself to be dragged away. "MORAL.

"The moral is, that a great deal may be done with young ladies, if they are taken by surprise."

SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ENSIGN AND ADJUTANT ODOHERTY, LATE OF THE 99TH REGIMENT.

(Continued.)

THE Ode to Messrs Young and Waters, with part of which we closed our last notice of Mr Odoherty's life, has

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a merit which is far from being common among modern lyrics-it expresses the habitual feelings of the author. The composer of an ode, in these times, is usually obliged to throw himself out of his own person, into that of some individual placed in a situation more picturesque than has fallen to his own share-he is obliged to dismiss all recollection of his own papered parlour and writing-desk, and to imagine himself, pro tempore, a burning Indian, a dying soldier, or a love-sick young lady, as it may happen. He thus loses that intense air of personal emotion, which forms the principal charm in the stern heroics of Pindar, the elegant drinking songs of Horace, the gay chansons of Deshoulieres, and the luxurious erotics of Tom Moore. Odoherty wrote of Young and Waters in his own person, -the feelings which he has embodied in verse, are the daily, or rather nightly, visitants of his own bosom. If truth and nature form the chief excellence of poetry, our hero may take his place among the most favoured children of the muse.

Those taverns were, however, far from being the scenes of mere merriment and punch-drinking. The bowl was seasoned with the conversation of associates, of whom it is sufficient to say, that they were indeed worthy to sit at the board with Ensign and Adjutant Odoherty. The writer of this has no personal knowledge of these distinguished persons; but from the letters and poems of the Ensign's, composed during his stay in Edinburgh, it is evident, that those upon whom he set most value, were the following gentlemen: James Hogg, Esq., the celebrated author of "The Queen's Wake," "Pilgrims of the Sun," " Mador of the Moor," and other well-known poems. Of this great man Odoherty always wrote with rapture-take the following specimen.

While worldly men through stupid years
Without emotion jog,
Devoid of passions, hopes, and fears,
As senseless as a log-
I much prefer my nights to spend,
A happy ranting dog,
And see dull care his front unbend
Before the smile of Hogg.
The life of man's a season drear,

Immersed in mist and fog,
Until the star of wit appear,
And set its clouds agog.

For me, I wish no brighter sky
Than o'er a jug of grog,
When fancy kindles in the eye,
The good gray eye of Hogg.
When Misery's car is at its speed,
The glowing wheels to cog;
To make the heart where sorrows bleed
Leap lightly like a frog;
Gay verdure o'er the crag to shower,
And blossoms o'er the bog,
Wit's potent magic has the power,
When thou dost wield it, Hogg!

In the escritoir of the Ensign, his executors found, among letters from the first literary characters of the day, many excellent ones from Mr Hogg; and the following beautiful lines formed the postscript to that one in which he returned thanks to our poet for the above tribute to his own kindred genius.

O hone, Odoherty!
I canna weel tell what is wrang;
But oh, man, since you gaed frae me,
The days are unco dull and lang.
I try the paper and the sclate,
And pen, and cawk, and killivine;
But nothing can I write of late,
That even Girzzy ca's divine.

O hone, Odoherty!
O hone, Odoherty!
Oh weary fa' the fates' decree,
That garred the Captain part frae me.

O hone, Odoherty!
Come back, come back to Ettrick lake,
And ye sall hear, and ye sall see,
What I'se do for the Captain's sake.
I'll coff tobacco o' the best,
And pipes baith lang and short I'se gie;
And the toddy-stoup sall ne'er get rest,
Frae morn till night, 'tween you and me.
O hone, Odoherty!

O hone, Odoherty!
O welcome sall the moment be
That brings the Captain back to me.

Next to the Ettrick Shepherd, the member of the Dilettanti who shared most of Ensign Odoherty's confidence and affection was William Allan, Esq. This gentleman's genius as a painter does not require any notice on the present occasion. He has, we understand, done justice to his own feelings, and to his friend, by introducing a striking likeness of Odoherty's features into one of his principal pieces. Reader, the Cobler in the Press-gang is Odoherty! To Mr Allan, Odoherty frequently addressed humorous epistles in verse. We prefer, however, to quote the following eulogy, which is written in the Adjutant's best seri

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As the writer of the present notice intends to publish in a separate form the poetical verses of Odoherty, with authentic portraits of his friends, it is not necessary to quote any more of these effusions now. The pleasantry of the Ensign was always harmless, and his very satire was both dart and balsam. He never condescended to personalities, except in one solitary instance, in a song, entitled, Young Man of the West," composed upon Mr James Grahame, the famous Anti-Malthusian philosopher. This song he used to sing with great humour, to the tune of "A Cobler there was, &c." but though frequently urged to do so, he never would print it; and on his own manuscript copy there is this note, "Let the Young Man of the West be destroyed," an injunction which has since been scrupulously complied with.

During one of those brilliant evenings at the Dilettanti, which, says our bard in a letter to the present writer, "will for ever live in the memory of all who enjoyed them," the conversation ran upon the Italian improvisatori. Odoherty remarked, that the power which appeared to many so wonderful, was no way uncommon, and offered to recite, or write down currente calamo, a poem upon any given subject. The president proposed "An Elegy, by a Young Lady in a Ball-room disappointed of a Partner," and the Adjutant wrote down the following twenty four-line stanzas in fifty-three minutes nineteen seconds by a stop-watch. Such an achievement throws the admirable Crichton into the shade.

Elegy written in a Ball-room. THE beaux are jogging on the pictured floor, The belles responsive trip with lightsome heels;

• Circassian captive.

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I round the room dispense a wistful glance, Wish Ned, or Dick, or Tom, would crave the honour;

I hear Sam whisper to Miss B., "Do dance,"

And launch a withering scowl of envy on her.

Sir Billy capers up to Lady Di;

In vain I cough as gay Sir Billy passes;
The Major asks my sister-faint I sigh,
"Well after this-the men are grown such
asses !"

In vain! in vain! again the dancers mingle,
With lazy eye I watch the busy scene,
Far on the pillowed sofa sad and single,
Languid the attitude-but sharp the spleen.

"La! ma'am, how hot!"-" You're quite
fatigued, I see;"

"What a long dance !"-" And so you're

come to town!"

Such casual whispers are addressed to me,
But not one hint to lead the next set down.

The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth,

are gone,

And now the seventh-and yet I'm asked
not once!

When supper comes must I descend alone?
Does Fate deny me my last prayer-a dunce?
Mamma supports me to the room for mun-
ching,

There turkey's breast she crams, and wing
of puilet;

I slobbering jelly, and hard nuts am crunch-
ing,

And pouring tuns of trifle down my gullet.
No beau invites me to a glass of sherry;
Above me stops the salver of champaigne ;
While all the rest are tossing brimmers merry,
I with cold water comfort my disdain.

Ye bucks of Edinburgh! ye tasteless crea-
tures!

Ye vapid Dandies! how I scorn you all!-
Green slender slips, with pale cheese-pairing

features,

And awkward, lumbring, red-faced boobies tall.

Strange compounds of the beau and the attorney!

Raw lairds! and school-boys for a whisker
shaving!

May injured beauty's glance of fury burn ye!
I hate you-clowns and fools!but hah!
-I'm raving!

We shall now take leave, for the present, of Odoherty and the Dilettanti Society, with an extract from his longest and latest poem, entitled "Young's Night Thoughts" (a humorous allusion to the before-mentioned celebrated tavern). Lively as this strain is, we can scarcely read it without tears; for it was, we repeat, the very last of his works here below. The following proem, copied by a

female hand on hot-pressed gilt paper,
is intended to explain the great lead-
ing object of the poem :

There was a time when every sort of people
Created, relished, and commended jokes;
But now a joker's stared at, like a steeple,
By the majority of Christian folks.
Dulness has tanned her hide to thickness
triple,

And Observation sets one in the stocks,
When you've been known a comic song to
sing,

Write notices, or any harmless thing.

This Edinburgh, Edina, or Dunedin—
('Cleped, in the Bailie's lingo, "the Good
Town;"

But styled "Auld Reekie" by all Celts now
treading

Her streets, bows, wynds, lanes, crescents,
up and down,

Her labyrinths of stairs and closes threading
On other people's business or their own
Those bandy, broad-faced, rough-kneed,
ragged laddies-

Those horny-fisted, those gill-swigging cad-
dies.)

This Edinburgh some call Metropolis,
And Capital, and Athens of the North-
I know not what they mean.-I'm sure of
this,-

Tho' she abounds in men of sense and worth,
Her staple and predominant qualities
Are ignorance, and nonsense, and so forth;
I don't like making use of a hard word,
But 'tis the merest hum I ever heard.

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