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Observations on the Writings of George | Petrarch's Letter to Posterity ...... ..313
| The British Ready Reckoner, and Uni-
of Constantinople ; (being a subject for Principal Baird's Report on the Manage-
a diclo-drama)... cara ... 258 ment of the Poor in Scotland... 320
Kidd and Branderscornancera rowerocorane 277 History of Dr Brewster's Kaleidoscope,
nation m ancano c om 280 blance to other Combinations of plain
The Craniologist's Review, No II. Greek
MONTHLY LIST OF NEW PUBLICA-
PRINTED FOR WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, NO 17, PRINCE'S STREET,
PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON ;
XVII. We can't express our hatred of this WE,
Were vanity our foible, (which it an't) We bear the monosyllable a grudge ;
The notice of such heroes were enough Tully, we think, in his Curulian glee,
To turn the head of the most pious saint ;First introduc'd at Rome the pompous fudge : Think only of a Lord, (with gesture gruff, But now it is a standing vanity,
Back'd by a Banker) making sore complaint From which no modern editor will budge;
About a little monthly piece of stuff! From Mr Jeffrey down to Mr Hone,
A whole Society of such renown
Harangued to put one Irish Ensign down.
'Mid the gay garden rising like a queen!
How soft the virgin coronal's purple sheen. With every sentiment-We cannot dash on, But stay, rash stranger, stay thy venturous hand;
Thro' one short stanza of our triple jingle ; Grasp not the modest garment of her green. In short we should be sadly at a loss,
Qur's be the emblem! Fops and fools beware, Were we restricted from our stately nos.
Admire in safety, touch us if ye dare !
Though we reject his quizzical “ Lament ;" “ Never no good doth come of novelties,”
We think it has a very wicked air, Se we'll be we until our dying day :
To such outrageous fury to give vent ; We wish, instead of aiming to surprise,
Moreover, still the Bailies' hopes are fair, By dash, originality, display,
For still the Court of Session may relent. We had from our commencement been thus sober, Besides it is a trick of good old John's,” (Hang that confounded 20th of October !)
Of differing from them all to make no bones. XIII.
xx. Then had our course of life been smoothly gliding There is no saying about things which lie In moderate unenvied calm prosperity;
Far in the Fates' inscrutable dark womb, Worthy old women then had not been chiding Of prophecies the wise are very shy,
Our deafening whirls and cataracts of asperity, But, 'spite of all the Scotsman's boded gloom, Nor all the godless wits their faces hiding,
We see not in the Magisterial sky Idoloclastis ictubus perterriti,
Any such symptoms of a dismal doom ; Nor whiggery's meteor dimly forced to twinkle Instinctive reverence still we entertain Before the rising star of LAUERWINKEL.
For resolute Mackenzie's gown and chain.
Of them that love the Yellow and the Blue ;
The undisputed oracle of gout ;
To that despotic democrat Review,
Present when Shakspeare's Richard 3d was played ?
With hand disarmed stili daring Henry's blade Such awe was our's, when, on that real scene,
Even in the front of Boyle, most bold Kincaid ! In front of Craigie, Bannatyne, and Miller, Stedfast and stern, stood firm our civic pillar.
Too ethically,.querulously sad;
And punch is, at this season, far from bad ;
To change old fashions to please any lad
Then Hunt and Hazlitt, Haydon, Webb and Keats,
Had quaffed at Hampstead currant-wine in peace, la gentle interchange of " fine conceits,”
Of“ Laurel Garlands," and of mutual grease; Such, we may gather, are their Cockney treats.
(Alas! that joys so heavenly e'er should cease;
On the high corpus of F. R. S. E's;
Against some blarney about Irish fees;
Poissarded Ebony's enormities. (imprudent mineralogist and banker, Par individual notice dost thou hanker?)
When civil gentlemen come hurrying down, with heads agog on schemes of canvassing
They kiss the voters' spouses thro' the town,
To every boy they meet with, half-a-crown ;
The OLD INDIAN's bunch of letters is reclaim'd; To see how the slim candidate is driven
Like other Bachelors, he used to fret,
But old Mysogynist Quizzes (never yet
XXXII. If we had leisure, we could pen a treatise
'Tis just the season ; in a chaise and pair Upon the real vulgar style of dancing ;
By day they roll thy margin green beside, People have no idea what a treat 'tis
Of lakes most classical, Winandermere ! To be a looker-on when they are prancing, Or on thy bosom in a skiff they glide. What an enormous twinkling 'mong their feet is, With spectacle on nose they stifly stare,
With what velocity their toes are glancing, And very bitterly the boatman chide, In, out, above, below, before, behind,
If, through his blundering, they be not relande
Has thewes and sinews of such brittle make, Just wedded to their mind, and, for a time,
Free 'mid some soft Elysian scene to rove, If he one glorious, boisterous, fling should take. And hear no earthly sound save the near chime He has no juice about his bones, no sap,
Of merry bells from out the village grove, Mark with what languour moves th' enervate rake! Their honeymoon is sweet as Eden's prime. Look how he swims, and glides, with poised toe, Of love, love only, do they talk and think ; Genteelly weak, and fashionably slow!
They take no notice what they eat or drink. . XXVII.
XXXIV. Turn to the Burgess or the rural hind,
But when old musty, dry, and doting sinners With horny calf and light elastic heel,
The laws of nature by a wedding shock,
They make a tour, and order famous dinners,
Landlords and landladies are the chief winners,
We're going out of town to-morrow week, Grace, in whate'er he writeth, must appear. To London (to see Baldwin) by the smack, We like his “ premiere fois” wondrously.
And scarcely hope that to the Nest of Reek, • “The Highlanders" lie snug 'mong our best gear. Before the first of August, we'll be back. “ The Jury Trial,” would, in Devilry
Sharp-set Contributors, the truth to speak,
Had better Blackwood instantly attack ;
And see each article e'er we take ship.
Professor Playfair, Hazlitt, and Tom Moore,
We never read more bitter things before. But wherefore hack so cruelly each lith
And limb of the Review-thou Matador! The Horn is blunt--he's in a deep decline, Reserve for nobler Beasts that mace of thine!
This spring, that we've a huge enormous box
Of papers fit for every sort of folks :
Abundant food our reservoir unlocks ;
To Mr Wilson, author of The Isle
And cuts him up throughout in monstrous style.
And seems to breathe the very soul of bile : A manly Wit would scorn to take such views of the productions of so meek a Muse.
If any Wit, before in idlesse sitting,
If any that before hath dully written
If any that before we had not smitten,