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his way in the dark depths of the earth, now striking out sparks by the collision of his hard implements with the harder rock, now awakening a momentary brilliancy by the reflection of his lamp against rich veins of native metal-gave forth his dark oracles. Göthe, like a mighty, pure, and waveless lake, reflected back the surrounding universe in softened forms and purer dies. These days are gone. A tamer race have succeeded, around whose heads plays a reflection of past glories, like roseate hues upon the Alpine peaks at sunset. Göthe and Tieck are the only ones of their generation who survive-and even they speak not now with the fervour of earlier years. The rest mutter over the formulas used by the mighty necromancers of old, but the power of the spell-word has faded.

It would, however, be the height of injustice not to admit, that the volume which has suggested these remarks contains much poetry, which, although not of the highest class, must please by melody of versification and ingenuity of thought, and some pieces which, were there no other cause, would interest us simply in virtue of their authors' names. Göthe contributes a number of those parables and proverbs, in turning which he so much delights; Ludwig Tieck sings as sweetly as ever; Arndt has a spirited" Advice to my Son," worthy of the man whose eloquence shook Napoleon's power when it seemed firmest; Chamisso, the companion of Kotzebue in his voyage round the world, the author of Peter Schlemihl, the inveterate philosopher who once broke his pipe in his anxiety to initiate us into the recondite mysteries of Kant's doctrine, has begun (what will this world come to?) to lisp out love lays at the latest hour.

Somehow or other, we always feel, while we are laying down the law respecting the merits of any author or book, in our beautifully concise manner, that it would only be fair to allow him to speak for himself. We submit the following address by Göthe to the United States of America, not as a fair specimen of the Almanack of the Muses, but as an amusing enough expression of the patriarch's contempt for a species of literature with which our country, as well as his, has been flooded. It may be necessary to premise, that no basalt has yet been discovered within the boundaries of the Union. The lines contain a new version of the great doctrine which he has taught through life, that the healthy state of the mind is that which looks confidently to the future, instead of brooding over the past:

TO THE UNITED STATES.

"America, thou hast it better
Than our ancient hemisphere;
Thou hast no ruin'd castles,
Nor basalt, as here.

Thy children they know not-
Their youthful joy to mar-
Useless retrospection,

And ineffective war.

Good luck attend thy glorious spring!
And when in time thy poets sing,
May some good genius guard them all

From baron-robber, knight, and ghost traditional!

The Minerva for 1831 contains eight illustrations of the Sorrows of Werter. We cannot, in conscience, praise them. They are works which owe their birth, we see, at the first glance, to a country where art is far advanced, but are executed by one who is only a bungler at his trade. The art of illustrative engraving seems to have retrograded in Germany since the days of Chlodowiecki, as much as the higher branches of the art have advanced. With us it has become too fine perhaps. An illustration is a subordinate part of a book-it ought not to affect to be in itself a highly finished work of art, but rather a genial sketchy design, entering into the spirit of the work to be illustrated. Leaving caricature and beauty out of the question, we think Cruikshank's technical handling admirably calculated for illustrations; Heath's

solitary and exquisite finish not in the least. The engra vings in the volume of the Minerva now before us are far too solid. They have also a worse fault-they are exquisitely deficient in expression.

The literary contents are better. "The Tournament at Worms," by Caroline Pichler, is a favourable specimen of the Minerva-press literature of Germany. Johanna Schoppenhauer's "Reminiscences of Travel" are lively and graphic. Johanna may be called the Lady Morgan of Germany. She is continually on the wing, and continually emitting printed reports of her progress. She far excels our traveller, however, in true feminine delicacy. Ludwig Storch-the same, if we err not, who, some ten years ago, gave to the world what an esteemed correspondent would elegantly term "a juvenile indiscretion," and busied himself, five years later, with animal magnetism-contributes a tale, called "The Destruction of Wineta." The author is a friend of our own, and therefore we say nothing of its merits. The chief ornament of the work, however, is a tragedy by Oehlenschläger, entitled "Charlemagne." This poet's tragedies ought more properly to be called dramatic poems; they are none of them calculated for the stage. They want condensation and plot. There are, however, imagination and deep thought in all he writes. The story of Charlemagne is rather complex. The intention of the poet is to paint the beauty and kindliness of Charles's character in his gentler hours. There is much grandeur in the conception of Charles, and many of the subordinate characters are well brought out. The only drawback to the poem is the tedium of its earlier scenes, and its utter want of plot. The scenes merely follow, they do not arise out of, each other.

A Collection of Peninsular Melodies. The English Words by Mrs Hemans, Mrs Norton, John Bowring, Esq. LL.D., and other eminent Poets. The Airs selected and compiled by C. J. H. No. II. London. Goulding, D'Almaine, and Co. 1830.

WE noticed the first Number of this work with the praise it deserved. The second is not inferior. The airs are numerous and varied, and all interesting. At the present period, the patriotic melodies of Spain possess more than usual interest. The words are for the most part elegant and characteristic. The following is by our favourite, Mrs Hemans:

FLOW, RIO VERDE! By Mrs Hemans. "Flow, Rio Verde!

In melody flow; Win her that weepeth, To slumber from woe: Bid thy wave's music Roll through her dreams; Grief ever loveth

The kind voice of streams.

"Bear her lone spirit

Afar on the sound,
Back to her childhood,

Her life's fairy ground:
Pass like the whisper

Of love that is gone :
Flow, Rio Verde,
Softly flow on!

"Dark, glassy water!
So crimson'd of yore!
Voices of sorrow

Are known to thy shore:
Thou shouldst have echoes

For grief's deepest tone-
Flow, Rio Verde,
Softly flow on!"

Mrs Norton is hardly less successful:

MY COUNTRY! WHILE SLEEPING.
By the Hon. Mrs. Norton.
"My country! while sleeping,
I see thy blue hills,

I hear voices weeping
Beside thy clear rills;
The play of thy fountains,
The scent of the air,

The breeze on thy mountains,

How blessed they were!

Starting from my slumber, cloudy skies I see,
Such, my Spain, hang not o'er thee!

"When lone stars are gleaming

Far o'er the dim sea,

Oh! blest is the dreaming

That bears me to thee!

Thy banners are waving

Before me again,

The souls of thy children

Have cast off their chain.

Starting from my slumber, stranger forms I see,
Far away, sweet Spain, from thee!"

We are also much pleased with the following song, which is, however, given anonymously:

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The Farmer's Assistant; or, Ready Reckoner, and Land, Hay, and Cattle Measurer. By James M Derment, Teacher of Mathematics, Navigation, and Land-Surveying, Ayr. Donan and Nelson, Ayr. 1830.

THIS little volume supplies a desideratum of very considerable importance to farmers, cattle-dealers, and others connected with the sale of cattle and agricultural produce. The banker and accountant have been long in possession of accurate and extensive interest tables; and the common ready reckoner of pounds, shillings, and pence, is a most convenient and useful vade mecum to many in this "nation of shopkeepers." But the farmer and cattledealer have never, in so far as we know, been presented with tables of calculation expressly adapted to the transactions incident to their professions, until the publication of the present volume, a short statement of the contents of which will best prove its usefulness. Mr M'Derment has divided his work into four parts. The first consists of a ready reckoner, showing the price of an acre and any number of falls, in crop, from 10s. to L. 18. The second contains some simple rules for measuring land. The third is made up of rules for measuring hay in stacks and ricks, with relative tables showing their weight, from 11 to 707 stones; and rules for finding the capacity of waggons or carts, and the number of cubic yards in dunghills, &c. And the fourth part consists of rules for ascertaining the weight of live cattle by measurement, with relative tables showing the weight of cattle of all sorts, from 2st. 10lbs. to 129st. 7lbs. imperial. The rules for measuring cattle and hay are simple, and easily

understood. They are illustrated by woodcuts of ricks and stacks in all their variety of form, and of all sorts of cattle usually sold by weight, with dotted lines for the direction of the measurer; and, from statements given of the author's experiments, we think the farmer and cattle-dealer may buy and sell upon the faith of the ready reckoner with much confidence. The difference between his calculations by measurement, and the actual weight of the cases tried for experiment, appears to have been, in stacks of hay, from five to ten stones over or under, and in cattle, from on to five lbs., which is sufficiently near for the guidance of those who go to market with such commodities. We have no doubt that Mr M'Derment's laborious calculations will be found correct, and of great utility to every person connected with the branches of business to which his book applies, and we therefore recommend it to their notice.

Letters from Thomas Percy, D. D., afterwards Bishop of Dromore, John Callander of Craigforth, Esq., David Herd, and Others, to George Paton. Edinburgh. John Stevenson. 1830.

THE private correspondence of men who have distinguished themselves in the republic of letters, is generally interesting and instructive; and we therefore notice with pleasure the present volume, containing selections from the Paton Collection of Letters, preserved in the library of the Faculty of Advocates. The letters of Dr Percy,, who is well known from his " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry," his "Hermit of Warkworth," his translation of " Mallet's Northern Antiquities," &c., are written in a simple, unaffected style, and illustrate a variety of points in the literary history of Scotland, during the latter part of the last century. The correspondence of Herd and of Callander will also be read with much interest, the former celebrated as the editor of a curious collection of Scotch Songs, and the latter as the author of various erudite works. We have read all the letters with much satisfaction, and commend the editor for having brought them under the eye of the public.

Manual of the Weather for the Year 1831. By George Mackenzie. Leith. William Reid and Son. 1830. kenzie's predictions. They are for the most part, like Ir forms no part of our creed to believe in Mr Macthe ancient oracles, so very vague, that they may be construed any way; and the experience of the past year proves, that when on any occasion he ventured to be a little more specific, he was just as likely to be wrong as right in his conjectures. We have looked over his volume for 1831. One-half of it is unintelligible, and the other half is taken up with explaining to us that November will be "cold, cloudy, and windy,”-December," wet, frosty, cold, cloudy, and windy,"-May, " dry, cool, generally clear, moderate winds,”—June, “ very dry, cool, generally clear, moderate winds," and so on through all the other months; from which information we derive about as much knowledge as we could pick up from any old wife at the foot of any Highland hill.

66

The Parent's Guide to the Baptism of his Children. By
David Robertson, Minister of the Gospel, Kilmaurs.
1830.
Glasgow. M. Lochhead.

THE author of this work has published it with the intention that it should be perused by parents, and “ especially young parents, when coming for the first time to present their offering to God in baptism." It is not so much controversial as practical, although the errors of the Anabaptists are pretty fully discussed. Mr Robertson appears to be a sensible man, and has written judiciously and usefully. This book may safely be put into the hands of all classes.

Deadly Adulterations, and Slow Poisoning; or, Disease by that learned and indefatigable antiquary, John Dillon, and Death in the Pot and the Bottle; in which the Esq. The members are also in possession, at the expense Blood-empoisoning and Life-destroying Adulterations of volumes by the Bannatyne Club, and of the early Numof the Club, of Spalding's Memoirs, lately printed in twe Wines, Spirits, Beer, Bread, Flour, Tea, Sugar, Spices, bers of Pitcairn's Criminal Trials. Of private contriCheesemongery, Pastry, Confectionary, Medicines, &c.butions, two have already been put into the hands of the are laid open to the Public; with Tests, or Methods for ascertaining and detecting the fraudulent and dele-members-Mr Dennistoun, younger of Dennistoun, adterious Adulterations, and the good and bad Qualities of Scotland, printed from MSS. in the Advocates' Libvocate, having presented an edition of Moysie's Memoirs of those Articles; with an Exposé of Medical Empiricism and Imposture, Quacks and Quackery, regular and rary, and in the possession of Lord Belhaven; and Mr irregular, legitimate and illegitimate, and the Frauds and William Smith of Glasgow a reprint of "Histoire de la Malpractices of Pawn-Brokers and Madhouse-keepers. Guerre d'Ecosse pendant les Campagnes 1548 et 1549, Both By an Enemy of Fraud and Villainy. London. Sher- par Jean de Beaugné," from the rare original. these contributions, besides being important additions to those 66 contemporary narratives in which the general historian finds a valuable source of information,” are presented in a shape equally creditable to the liberality of the donors, and to the state of typography in Scotland. Other members are understood to be preparing contributions, which we shall be happy to notice when they appear. We subjoin a list of the present members, and wish them every success in their laudable endeavours to illustrate the history and antiquities of their native country.

wood. 1830.

We shall not condescend to “break a butterfly on a wheel," by noticing seriously the absurd lucubrations of this "Enemy of Fraud and Villainy," who, guided by the infallible authorities of "Reece's Oracle of Health," "The Housekeeper's Guide to Domestic Comfort," and "The Maid-Servant's Companion and Directory," has put forth a little book, with a long and death-like titlepage, which, we presume, is intended to frighten all the Tittle children and old maids in England, Scotland, and Wales. The style in which it is written is throughout vulgar, impertinent, and egotistical; it abounds in ignorance and errors; and the information it pretends to convey, is in no case to be relied on. We cannot perceive that the book possesses one redeeming quality; we fore consign it to the tomb of all the Capulets.

The EARL of GLASGOW, President.

The Duke of Sussex.

Robert Adam, Esq., Glasgow.
Robert Aird, Esq.
John Bain, Esq.
there-Joseph Bain, Esq., Advocate.
Robert Bell, Esq.
The Marquis of Bute.
Lord John Campbell.
J. D. Carrick, Esq.
Henry Cockburn, Esq.
James Dennistoun, Esq., yr. of
John Dillon, Esq.
James Dobie, Esq.
Rich. Duncan, Esq.
James Ewing, Esq., V.P.
Kirkman Finlay, Esq.

A System of Human Anatomy, on the Basis of the Traité d'Anatomie Descriptive of M. H. Cloquet. By Robert Knox, Lecturer on Anatomy, Fellow of the Royal Society, and of the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh. Edinburgh. Maclachlan and Stewart. 1830. WE sometime ago noticed the former edition of this very excellent system of anatomy, and have now only to observe, that this differs from its predecessor in having been very carefully revised and compared with Semmering's work," De Fabrica Corporis Humani.". It is unnecessary to do more than recommend the work to the attention of students and members of the medical profession.

The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. Complete in one volume. Chiswick: Printed by Charles Whittingham. London: John Sharpe. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 622. THIS is a cabinet volume, elegantly printed in double columns, containing the most delightful piece of biography extant in this, or perhaps in any language. It is sold at the extremely low price of twelve shillings.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

THE MAITLAND CLUB OF GLASGOW.

Dennistoun.

Rev. Wm. Fleming, D.D.
John Fullarton, Esq.
James Hill, Esq.
Laurence Hill, Esq.
John Kerr, Esq.
R. A. Kidston, Esq.
G. R. Kinloch, Esq.
David Laing. Esq.
John Gibson Lockhart, Esq.
Wm. Macdowall, Esq., of Garth-
Alex. Macdonald, Esq.

land.

J. W. Mackenzie, Esq., W.S.

Jas. Maidment, Esq., Advocate.
J. H. Maxwell, Esq.
Very Rev. D. Macfarlan, D.D.
Andrew M'George, Esq.
D. Macintyre, Esa.

Alex Macneill, Esq., Advocate.
Wm. Meikleham, Esq.
Wm. Millar, Esq., M.P.
Wm. Motherwell, Esq.
J. M. Pagan, Esq., M.D.
Edward Piper, Esq.
Robert Pitcairn, Esq.

J.C. Porterfield of Porterfield,
Esq.

Hamilton Pyper, Esq., Advocate.
P. A. Ramsay, Esq.

Wm. Robertson, Esq.
Sir Walter Scott, Bart.

James Smith, Esq., of Jordan-
hill.

John Smith, Esq., of Swinridge

muir.

John Smith, Esq., Glasgow.

Wm. Smith, Esq., Glasgow,

George Smythe, Esq., Advocate.
John Strang, Esq.

Sir Patrick Walker.

Wilson Dobie Wilson, Esq.
John Wylie, Esq., Secretary.

THE LONDON DRAMA.

Regent's Park, London, Monday, Oct. 18th, 1830.

[We are happy to be able to promise notices of the London Drama regularly throughout the season, from the same intelligent correspondent who has already commenced the present series of articles, and who enjoys peculiar opportunities of collecting information.— ED.]

AFTER being closed for six days only, the Adelphi Theatre re-opened for its regular winter season, most superbly re-decorated throughout, with a new devilry, entitled "The Black Vulture, or the Wheel of Death ! written by a Mr Edward Ball, who, to preclude the pos

SOME slight errors having been pointed out to us in the notices we have already given of this institution, we revert to the subject with the view of presenting a suc-sibility of his being mistaken for a brother bard named cinet and accurate statement of its proceedings. The William Ball, most aristocratically writes himself FitzClub was established at Glasgow about two years ago; Ball! for which distinction his namesake ought to be and although only one volume has yet issued from its exceedingly grateful. As a literary composition, it is, press The History of the Family of Seyton, by Sir like most of Mr Fitz-Ball's other dramatic monstrosities, Richard Maitland of Lethington, Knight, edited by John below criticism; though, as a spectacle, it is both splenFullarton, Esq.-yet the members have not been idle, as did and effective. The most surprising thing about it, other two volumes are nearly ready, viz. the Poems of however, is the proprietors' temerity in expending so Sir Richard Maitland, under the able superintendence of much money on such nonsense. The only other novelty Joseph Bain, Esq., advocate; and Hamilton of Wishaw's has been a farcical burletta, called " Scheming and SeemHistory of the Shires of Lanark and Renfrew, which is ing, or Mimic Art and Attic Science," which, though nearly ready for delivery, with a preface, notes, and index, | produced as new, is a mere alteration, by the author, of

Lunn's very clever bagatelle of "Lofty Projects, or Arts in an Attic," acted some years since at Covent Garden, where Yates, as now, performed the principal character, which is an assumption of several others, very ably sustained, concluding with his almost inimitable imitations This trifle of Young, Kean, Macready, and Braham.

had a very long run formerly, and promises to remain as long on its legs now. -The Haymarket closed on Friday last, with Miss Paton's benefit, when the stage-manager, Mr Percy Farren, made the usual obeisances, and congratulated himself and the audience on their having had the last of Mr Kean, and the first of Mary-Anne; thanked and promised after the most approved recipe-and thus terminated the campaign of 1830; the defects of which-bad farces, worse actors, and late hours-will, it is "devoutly to be wished," all be amended next year. There is the most ample room for improvement throughout, and the scenery and band being by no means amongst the least faulty of Mr Morris's departments, will, it is hoped, receive dae attention during the recess; that the one may slightly resemble what it is intended to represent, and the other, occasionally at least, play in time. -Mr Keppell, the Covent-Garden debutant in Romeo, is certainly much superior to Abbott, but failed through lack of energy, and from nervous apprehension; and of the fair recruits at Drury-Lane, Miss Chester and Mrs Waylett, the former is as handsome a woman, and as inefficient an actress, as ever she was; and the latter will be valuable while she plays the parts of ladies' maids only, and is never permitted to assume those of their mistresses. On Saturday last, opera was performed at each house, when a Mr Latham, from Dublin, and a Miss S. Phillips, made very successful first appearances as Figaro and Rosina, in the " Barber of Seville," at Drury Lane; and Mr Wilson, from Edinburgh, and a Miss Romer, also debuted as Carlos and Clara, in the "Duenna," at Covent-Garden, scarcely less triumphantly. The immortal "Black-eyed Susan" was superseded by Pocock's new naval melo-drama of “The Blue Anchor, or a Tar for all Weathers," at the latter theatre on Monday last; and amongst the early novelties at Drury-Lane, is to be produced Macready's alteration of Lord Byron's tragedy of "Werner;" in which he has already most successfully appeared as the hero, at Birmingham, and several other SOMERSET. provincial theatres.

ANECDOTE OF ROBERT BURNS.

ON Burns's first appearance in Edinburgh, he was introduced, among many others, to Mr Taylor, the overweening parochial schoolmaster of Currie, who was also a competitor in verse-making, and whose opinion of his own merits far overbalanced what little estimation he might have formed of the plain unlettered peasant of Ayrshire, whose name was as yet new to the public. Mr H- at whose table Burns was a frequent guest, invited Taylor one day to dine with him, when the evening was spent with the usual good-humour and jocularity. Taylor had brought his manuscript poems, a few of which were read to Burns for his favourable opinion previous to printing. Some of the passages read were odd enough, such as,

"Rin, little bookie, round the warld loup,
Whilst I in grave do lie wi' a cauld doup!"

At which Burns laughed exceedingly. Notwithstand-
ing the pedantic and absurd perversity of the poems,
Burns gave him a recommendatory line to the printer.
Next morning Mr H, meeting Taylor, enquired of
him what he thought of the Ayrshire poet.
quoth the self-admiring pedagogue," the lad 'ill do
considerin' his want o' lear, the lad's weel eneugh !"

"Hoot,"

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE TANGIERS GIANT.

By the Author of " Anster Fair."

TO THE EDITOR OF THE EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL. MY DEAR GIGANTIC MR EDITOR, METHINKS I have in secret observed, that you and others of strutting corporeal altitude are apt to think more highly of yourselves than you ought to think, from the accidental circumstance of your Typhoan stature-that you, in short, are apt to look down somewhat contemptuously on myself, and on all the rest of lowly, modest, of humbling you, and the other towering gigantaccii of the Six-Feet Club, that I have indited the following verses. I trust you will ac cept of them as a stroke of humiliation-as one of the fulgura of Apollo levelled at your ambitious and sun-challenging heads;-for you will not fail, I think, to perceive, that, in comparison with my Giant, you and all others of similar stamp and mould are but "as that small infantry

and Zaccheus-statured mankind. It is then for the express purpose

Warr'd on by cranes!"

I expect, therefore, that, for the humiliation of the lofty-headed,
you will transmit a copy of the "Tangiers Giant" to each member
of your assuming and over-lording Six-Feet Club of Edinburgh,
Believe me, notwithstanding your height, to be, my dear sir, most
W. T.
faithfully yours,

IN Tangiers town, as I've been tauld,
There lived intill the times of auld,

A giant, stout and big,

The awfuest and the dowrest carl
That on the outside o' this warl'

E'er wallop'd bane or leg.
When he was born, on that same day
He was like other weans, perfay,

Nae langer than ane ladle;
But in three days he shot sae lang,
That out wi''s feet and head he dang

Baith end-boords o' his cradle.
And, whan the big-baned babe did see,
How that his cradle, short and wee,

Could haud him in nae langer,
His passion took a tirrivee,
He grippit it, and garr'd it flee

In flinders, in his anger.

Ere he was span'd-what beef, what bane!
He was a babe o' thretty stane,

And buirdlier than his mither;
Whan he for 's parridge grat at morn,
Men never heard, syn they were born,
A yeut sae fu' o' drither!
When he'd seen thretty years or sae,
Far meikler was his little tae

Than our big Samuel's showther;
When he down on a stool did lean,
The stool was in an instant gane,

'Twas briss'd clean down to powther.
When through the streets of Tangiers town
He gaed, spasiering up and down,

Houses and kirks did trummel;

O' his coat-tail, the vera wap
Raised whirlwinds wi' its flichtering flap,
And garr'd auld lumm-heads tummel.
Had ye been five mile out o' toun,
Ye might hae seen his head aboon
The heighest houses tow'rin;
Ilk awsome tramp he gaif the ground,
Garr'd aik-trees shake their heads a' round,
And lions rin hame cow'rin'.
To show his powstie to the people,
Ance in his arms he took the steeple,

For this giant of 90 feet or more, we have somewhat like classical authority. Says an old author,-" Gabinius, the Roman historian, makes mention of the sepulchre of Antæus, near Tingi, (or Tangiers,) as also of a skeleton, sixty cubits long, which Sertorius disinterred, and again covered with earth."-Strabo, lib. 17. cap. 3.

Kiss'd it, and ca'd it "Brither;"
Syn from its bottom up it wrung,
And in the air three times it swung,
Spire, bell, and a' thegither,
And when he'd swung it merrilie,
Again upon its bottom he

Did clap it down sae clever;
Except a sma' crack half-way round,
The steeple stood upon its found

As stout and staunch as ever.
Ae king's birthday, when he was fu',
Twa Tangier blades began to pu'

His tails, when on a sudden,
Ane by the richt leg up he grippit,
The tither by the neck he snippit,

And sent them skyward scuddin';
On earth they ne'er again cam down:
Ane in a tan-pat i' the moon

Fell plump, and breathed his last;
The tither ane was jammit ticht
'Tween twa stars o' the Pleiades bricht,
Whair yet he's sticking fast.

Ae day when he stood near the sea,
A fleet o' Tyrian ships in glee

Was sailin' gawcy by

He gript ae frigate by the mast,

And frae the deep in powstie vast

He raised her in the sky :

And then the great ship up he tummell'd;

Her mast was down, her hulk up-whummell'd,

Her keel hie i' the lift;

Captain and cargo down cam rummelin',
Marines and men and meat cam tummelin'

Down frae her decks like drift.

He had ane mammoth for his horse,*
Whairon wi' michty birr and force

He rade baith up and down;
My certy! whan on him he lap,
For hill nor tree he didna stap,

For tower, nor yet for town. From Calpe till the Chinese wa' He travell'd in a day or twa;

And, as he gallop't east,

The tower o' Babel down he batter'd ;

For five mile round its bricks were scatter'd

Sic birr was in his beast!

But whan he came to Ecbatan,

A terribler strabasch was than ;

He souchtna street nor yett;

But burly-burly, smash, smash, smash,
Through wa's and roofs he drave slap-dash,
Down-dundering a' he met;

What wi' his monster's thunderin' thud,
And what wi' brasch and smasch and scud
O' rafters, sclates, and stanes,

Ten thousand folk to dead were devell'd,
Ten thousand mair were aiblins levell'd,
Half-dead wi' fractured banes !

He travell'd, too, baith south and north,
Baith hinges o' the warld, forsooth;
At Thebest he brak his fast,
And at the blithe Cape o' Good Houp
He took his denner and a stoup
O' wine for his repast;

He try'd, too, on his fearsome horse,
His way up to our Pole to force,
To spy its whirlin' pin;
Up to the Arctic ice-ribb'd flood,
Nichering he cam, as he were wud,

Wi' dirdom and wi' din:

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As north he rode, he didna wait
To mak a brig ower Helle's strait,
Like Persia's pridefu' king;

He loupit from Abydos' strand,
And thwack on Sestos' beach did land,
Makin' hail Europe ring!

As up through Thrace his beast did cour,
He kick'd up sic ane cloud o' stour

From his gambading hoof,

The King o' Thrace, whan he in's ha'
Sat dining wi' his princes braw,

Was chokit wi' the stoof!

But whan he reach'd Siberia's shore,
His monster, wi' a grewsome roar,

Down squish'd amang the snaw;
The beast was smored, and ne'er gat out;
His rider, wi' ane damnit shout,

Sprang aff, and spreul'd awa.
His end was like his lawless life;
He challenged Atlas in some strife,

T'up-haud Heiven on his head;

He tried the sterny Heiven t' up-haud ;-
Down cam the lift; and wi' a daud
It smored the scoundrel dead!

THE MORAL.

From this dour giant we may see
How little bulk o' limb and thie

The human race bestead;
A wee bit man wi' meikle sense,
Is better than ane carl immense
Wi' nonsense in his head!

Banks of the Devon, Clackmannanshire,
September, 1830.

A GENUINE LOVE-LETTER.

By the Ettrick Shepherd.

My Mary, maiden of my meed,
Thy beauties soon will be my dead;
Thy hair 's the sunbeam o' the morn,
Thy lip the rose without the thorn;
The arch above thine ee sae blue,
A fairy rainbow on the dew:-
O Mary, thou art all to me-
This warld holds nought sae sweet as thee!

Thy foot so light, thy step so fleet,
Like the young roe's as lithe and meet,
That scarcely brushes o'er the fell
The dew-drap frae the heather-bell.
Thy voice upon the breezes light,
In gloaming's cradle-hymn of night,
Sounds like the lute's soft melody,
Or seraph's melting strain, to me.

Then, since I may not, dare not tell,
Whom I so fondly love, and well,
I send you this, my darling maid,
To say what I would oft have said,
In hopes, that when you have it read,
You'll hide it in a snowy bed-
A bed so lovely and so meek,
It would not stain a cherub's cheek.

Then meet me in our trysting dell,
And not one word I'll bid you tell;
The liquid eye the tale will say,
The melting kiss will all betray-
Ay, they will tell, my Mary dear,
What you dare neither say nor hear;
And sweeter to my heart they'll prove,
Than all the winning tales of love!

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