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The reste whelit runde their steedis and fledde,

Swifte als the westlande wynde;
But some they quakit and stode agaste,

Quhan lokinge them behynde:

For there they saw bothe wyffis and barnis,

Of frychtsome gyant brode,
Come runnyng out of the horryde holle,

And drynke their kinsmenis blode.

And aye they quaffit the reide warme tyde,

Their greide it wals so ryffe,
Then trailit the bodies into the holle,

Though fleckeryng still with lyffe.

Lord Annerdaillis men they rode and ranne

O'er all the Border bounne,
Till they founde out Johne of Littledeane,

Ane aircher of gritte rénounne.

He came to the Gray-Meris Linne quernighte,

And dernit him dexterouslye, And there hee watchit for the grousome caryl,

To walke on his blodye lee.

Quhan hee had tokyn his horryde meale,

Too baisse quhereon to thynke,
Then strode hee downe unto the streime

To taike his mornyng drynke.

And Johne hee lokit out ouer his denne,

And sawe the monstour lye ;
And the littil fisches swatteryng awaye,

For they thochte the streime gone drye.

The caryl hee rose up lyke ane tree,

And toke his steidfaste stande, For hee behelde our gode yeomanne

With bent bowe in his hande.

Nee dorste pot turne him runde to flye,

Though moche hee hald ane mynde, For hee knewe the fleite and flying shafte

Wolde pierce his herte behynde.

Our yeomanne sent ane airrowe fleite,

From bowe of the good bay-tree; But the caryl keppyt it in his teethe,

Als easily als ane flee.

Another and another flewe,

With als moche mychte and speide, But stille hee keppyt them in his teethe,

And chewit them for ane meide.

But Johne hee wals ane cunnyng manne,

Hee seyis his skille againeHee put two arrowis to his bowe,

And drewe with mychte and maine :

The caryl deftly caught the ane

Full fiercelye als it flewe;
But the other piercit him throw the breiste,

And clave his herte in two.

Hee gaif ane growle-hee gaif but ane,

It maide all the hillis to rore ;
Then down hee fell on the Peele-Knowe side,

And wordis spoke nefer more.
Then up rose the Lord of Annerdaille

From ambosche quhair hee laye,
And hee sackit the carylis grousome holle,

And herrgit it for ane preye.
But, och ! the sychte wals then displayit

Of horrour and of paine,
Lorde graunt that the men of Annerdaille

May nefer beholde againe !
For soche ane wylde and salvage schene

By barde hald never beine sunge,
It wolde not syng, it wolde not saye

Be anye Chrystean tunge.
They toke the carylis menzie brode,

His sonnis and his wyffis three;
And they haunkit towis abote their neckis,

And hangit them on ane tree;
Then toke them to their grousome holle,

For their last horryde roome;
And the Gyantis Trensche and the Gyantis Grave
Will kythe till the daye of doome.

Now, long live Jamis, our nobil Kyng,

And Lord Annerdaille, long live hee, And long live John of Littledeane, Quha

set this countrye free.

Some saide those gyantis were brotal bestis,

And soulis they colde haif none,
Some saide they had, but shoke their hedis,

And wonderit quhare they were gone.

Till Peter of Bodisbecke hee came forthe,

With prufis of the verye beste, That put ane end to the dispute,

And set the lande at reste:

For Peter wals out at eventyde,

Upon his heightis, I wotte,
And Peteris eyne colde see full weille

Quhat other mennis colde notte.

So Peter behelde ane flocke of deilis,

Lyke greifous hoddye-crawis,
And ilk ane hald ane gyantis soule

A-writhing in its clawis.
They fewe als they were bounne to helle,

Swyfte als the fyerie flaime,
But they drappit the fiendis in Gallowaye,

The place fro whence theye caime;
They flewe ouer bonny Annerdaille,

And ouer the Nythe they flewe ;
But they drappit the soulis in Gallowaye,

Als the worste helle they knewe.
Maye the Lorde preserve bothe manne and beiste

That treade this yirde belowe,
And littil bairnis, and maydenis fayre,

And graunt them graice to growe ;
And may never ane reude uncouthlye gueste

Come their blessit bowris withynne;
And neuer ane caryl be seine againe

Lyke him of the Greye-Meris Linne.

LETTERS OF TIMOTHY TICKLER, ESQ. TO EMINENT LITERARY CHARACTERS.

No. XX.
To Malachi Mullion, Esq. M.D. F.R.S. Sec. of C. North, Esq. E.B.M.

In days when our King Tommy rang,
His beuk it cost but balf-a-crown,
We thocht it was a groat ower dear,
And caa'd the Taylor thief and loun!

MY DEAR SECRETARY,

unconscious adoration,—now ecce eyes It was well remarked by one of leering like the grey goggles of the our cleverest contributors, Napoleon Ettrick Shepherd himself, mouths Buonaparte, (Heaven rest his soul!) gullering guffaws, hands performing that there is but one step from the on that exquisite instrument the Scotsublime to the ridiculous. This pas tish fiddle, and knee and elbow keepseul, after a month's deliberation, has ing time together in a concerto bebeen resolutely taken by Taylor, the tween a chuckle and a crow. This is Trimmer, and certainly the effect has not the picture of me alone, Timothy been prodigious. We all remember Tickler, but of the small body of subhow sublime was the Old Series of the scribers in general to the Dunciad. London! We all behold bow ridicu- “Look, look at the LONDON ! my lous is the New; and accordant to the gracious ! only look at the London! creed of the Corsican, reverence is turn- Twig the New Series !-Well, this ed into contempt. Instead of eyes upe beats cock-fighting!-Price three shillifted methodistically towards the re lings and sixpence !-unconscionable volution of that heavenly body, mouths extortion-oh! for a barrel of Powl. wide and silent as barn-doors, hands doodies, or a demi-gallon of potheen!" clasped, and knees slightly bent in Joking apart, and to treat the New

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Series seriously, devil take me if, vel with the London, why, since the day on which I was kittled, Cato did and Addison approved cansaw I ever such a Magazine as this ! not be wrong;” and at least, my MulWith the deepest humility and con- lion, let it not be remembered on my trition do I now confess my own stu- epitaph. pidity, which at times has been more Why, what a blundering blockhead than I could well bear; but hence this Taylor must be! You know, forth, I will pluck up my spirits, by that, not long since, he came crawling remembering the New SERIEs. Sure out, at the point of North's rod, from ly, Mullion, my stupidity never equals the accumulation of six months' filth led this !--I ask you as a friend, whom and slime, a perfect Grub of an EdiI have ever found a friend, and, I hope, tor, and began biting away at the treated as such, both inter fam. and pointed iron, in total forgetfulness of coram pop. for the greater part of half his want of teeth. You then saw the a century, if ever I appeared to be so Grub disappear into the interior of his alarmingly near my last ? Yes, Mul- palace, with all the poinposity of a lion, with you I have used no disguise. fying beetle into his horse-dung, obYou have attended me in my stupid- viously mistaking himself for a Gadest moments, when “ none were by to fly, and indulging in the dear delusion hear" but your worthy self; you of a sting. Now, once more, he sallies have seen me lean my forehead in forth an enormous Bummer-a maniunidea’d despair, now on my hand, fest. Drone—with posteriors out of all now on the edge of the table, while proportion to his little short flimsy glass and tumbler yielded a sympho-, wings,-and- There now, Mulnious and spiritiess response to the lion, did not I tell you so, down upululation of their master's grief-You on the pavement drops the Shardhave seen, Mullion, those dim, dull, born, and blunders with a groan into dozing, dawnering, dying, dead eyes the gutter. of mine, gradually shut up in their

But easy-easy-- let us drop all enblue wrinkled sockets-You have tymological personalities, and take anheard that most alarming of all symp- other look at the New Series. Pray, toms,

the grammarless groan in may I ask, what barn-door fowl which the very verb loses his authori- scratched this ground-plan of the ty, and governs the accusative no more. THAMES QUAY? But I shall

suppose - You have beheld my organ of Self- my dear Mullion in his own corner Esteem, which, in size, is second only over his jug, while I read aloud the to that of a Simpson, torpid as the cau- first paragraph of the leading article sality of a Poole—and wept to think, of the first number of the New Sethat things seemed in a fair train to ries. qualify me for a contributor to the Phrenological Journal-All this and

“ All those who consider the 'appamore have you seen, and now, on

relling of the state' as a matter of some your conscience and your credit, by consequence, must hail with pleasure the your hopes of heaven, and of your growing disposition to improve the approvision-warehouse, as a christian, pearance and convenience of the country and a contributor, I ask you, with

at large, and the metropolis in particular:

Soane, Nash, and Macadam, are stoning my hand upon my heart, and a face

all the streets to death as though they beaming with the simplest sincerity, if ever, by day or night, gloom or glim- bellishment of our city it would be well

were so many St Stephens.

In the emmer, you had any reason to suspect

to remember that London is the metrothat I was about to cominence idiot

polis, not merely of England, but of the on my own account, with such a ca

whole British empire; an empire which, pital and stock on hand as any one

comprising its dependencies in Asia, partner in this concern of the New

Africa, and America, as well as in EuSERIES? If you must answer in the

rope, in point of population is exceeded affirmative, out with it at once~let by few, and, considering its wealth, knowme know the uttermost extent of my ledge, intellectual energy, commercial enimbecility-I am prepared to hear erprize, and the consequent moral and the worst-at my time of life the physical power, perhaps unequalled by shock need not be very great. I am any, ancient or modern. The capital of grateful for the past. Yet if my in such an empire ought to possess a com, tellect be indeed pronounced on a le- mensurate character, On the contrary,

London, in its improvements or embel- TROPOLIS NOT MERELY OF ENGLAND, lishments, has scarcely kept pace with the BUT OF THE WHOLE BRITISH EMprovincial towns. It is but, like one of PIRE!” Guthrie, thou god of my youthits booksellers, a proprietor of a series of ful idolatry, hide thy head for ever very indifferent Highways and Byeways. Pinkerton, thou Goth of my riper years, The houses crowd together and jostle like carry thy quartos to the Pozzi-Malte their inhabitants at an election, or in a Brun, listen thou unto the wizard, Caledonian chapel. There is not even a " LONDON IS TRÉ METROPOLIS OF good leading street to connect the two

ENGLAND.” Yes, it is indeed ; and " it grand divisions, the City and West End

would be well to remember" it. Let of the Town. The best of them, that by the great truth be written in letters of the Strand, Fleet Street, and St Paul's

gold, that he who runs may read. But Church Yard, presents a tortuous, un

this is not all—for what is the whole seemly, and, for the most part, narrow

British empire? why, it is “an empassage, disturbed by cross thoroughfares, jutting churches, and elephants' man.

pire, (vide supra,) which, comprising sions ; it is also so invariably choked by America, as well as in Europe, in point

its dependencies in Asia, Africa, and. stoppages, as to wage continual warfare against business.

of popılation is exceeded by few ; and, “ People quite forget the importance considering its wealth, knowledge, inof the public buildings and the public tellectual energy, commercial entera avenues to their daily comfort and conve- prize, and the consequent moral and phynience; and it would take an entire pa

sical power, perhaps unequalled by any, per to shew the influences of all kinds

ancient or modern!!!” Mullion, my which the position and the construction boy, had you any idea of that?—will of a city have upon the morals and ha- you ever again argue with me against bits of its inhabitants—many of them are popular education ? If you do,“

you very evident. If a town is composed of will do well to remember that London small houses, and spread over an immense is the metropolis of England,” and space, communication will be difficult, that the article Thames Quay, in and social intercourse obstructed, and, of which that mighty truth was first forcourse, diminished.”

mally promulgated, was written “ Oh! my Mullion, mildest of men, A Paviour." what beauty of expression ! a grow

Since the days of Akenside, we have ing disposition to improve the conve- had no such imaginative writer as the nience of the country at large.” Our Paviour. “ London is but like one of scribe of the New Series here means its booksellers, a proprietor of a series “the out-of-door nature” of the Cock- of very indifferent Highways and Byeneys, which is now beginning

Sly, satirical dog ! Each more convenient to town;"-" stoning street a little ago was like St Stephen; all the streets to death, as if they were and now the whole of London, so many St Stephens !What profound metropolis, not merely of England, knowledge, and striking application but of the whole British empire,” is of Holy Writ! what beautiful expres- like “ one of its booksellers!Damn sion given to the scientific disco- the idiot, Mullion,-isn't that enough very of streets being now, for the first to send No. I. of the New Series of time, made of stones! how novel the the London into the paper-box of your similitude, yet how natural and ob- cigarium ? yet I question if a leaf of vious, as soon as made, between a long such material would light a cigar. It street under the process of Macadam- is fit only for a pipe at the Pig and ization, and him the first martyr! The Whistle. delighted reader wonders how a resem- Forgive this sally--but, my dear blance so strong at all points had ne- English Opium-Eater, I insist upon ver presented itself to his own pensive your reading aloud to our friend A!. imagination ! that it should first have lan Cunninghame, the following senappeared in the New Series of the tence, written in Itălics, as Hogg calls London, Anno Domini 1825! But them; and if you do not both agree with what perfect ease and mastery with me in declaring it, not only at does the gifted author of the THAMES the head of all periodical, but also of Quay turn from poetry to prose, from all idiotical composition, my name is fancy to fact, from martyrology to sta- not Timothy Tickler. tistics ! " IT WOULD BE WELL TO RE- People quite forget the imporlance of MEMBER THAT LONDON IS THE ME- the public buildings and ike public avenue

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